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THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


THE 

SEAMLESS ROBE 

BY 

ADA CARTER 


“ There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond 
nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye 
are all one in Christ Jesus." 

“ Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour 
of the body" 

—PAUL. 

“ Realism will at length be found to surpass imagination, 
and to suit and savour all literature." 

—MARY BAKER G. EDDY. 



O 


NEW YORK 

A. WESSELS 

1909 




Copyright , 1907 
JAMES D. PINKER 

Copyright , 1909 

NEWOLD PUBLISHING CO. 



©GLA25 17 17 


DEDICATION 


To all nations and all kindreds this book is dedicated 
and sent forth upon its journey through the world, 
with the desire that it may speed Love’s sweet message 
from city to city, there proclaiming from every house- 
top the glory of a promise in swift process of fulfil- 
ment; going also out into the highwa3 r s and hedges 
and, with tender compulsion, bidding the hungry 
“ come in 99 ; whispering the while to the waiting heart 
the mighty truth that holiness and health, twin off- 
spring of Soul, dwell ever hand in hand; bidding the 
dormant heart awake and know that the veil of mate- 
rialism is rent in twain from the top to the bottom; 
and upraising the earth-bound eyes to behold Man, 
Godlike in his immortality, Chris tlike in his perfect 
health. 


r‘ 


r 


CONTENTS 


PROLOGUE 


11 


Part I 

DRAMATIS PERSONS 

OR 

TANGLED THREADS IN THE HAND OF MAN 


CHAPTER 

I. Mist 21 

II. Shadow-land 27 

III. Mental Assassination SO 

IV. The Mesmerism of Fear; or, “ Through the 

Valley of the Shadow ” 39 


V. The Unburied Dead; or, ‘"The Fruit of 

His Body for the Sin of His Soul " . 49 

VI. The Kingdom of Heaven 59 

VII. The World, the Flesh and Evil ... 63 

Part II 

MORTALS WEAVING IN THE DARK 


VIII. A Man and a Woman 75 

IX. Day Dreams 86 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEB PAGE 

X. Partial Eclipse 93 

XI. Total Eclipse 102 

XII. Derelict 109 

XIII. “Man, Whose Breath is in His Nostrils” 119 

XIV. Angola 127 

Part III 

A THREAD OF GOLD IN THE HAND OF GOD 

XV. The Midnight Call 141 

XVI. Newness of Life 151 

XVII. Ebb and Flow . 156 

XVIII. Human Limitations 165 

XIX. Self-Deception 174 

XX. Mental Fermentation 178 

XXI. A Barque — With White Sails Unfurled 182 

XXII. Called 191 

XXIII. Domestic Tyranny 199 

Part IV 

BROKEN SHUTTLES UPON THE TABLE OF TIME 

XXIV. The Recantation 213 

XXV. Hate 223 

XXVI. Castles Built Upon Shifting Sands . 229 

XXVII. The Flood-Tide 238 

XXVIII. A Barque — Storm-Tossed Upon a 

Stormy Sea . . 243 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIX. Egypt 250 

XXX. Mesmerized 254 

XXXI. Clouds of Sense 2 63 

XXXII. Confusion 272 

XXXIII. The Man-Made Hell of Man . . . 280 

Part V 

WHITE WARP AND WOOF IN THE LOOM OF 
MIND 

XXXIV. Looking Towards the Light . . . 293 

XXXV. The Question* 302 

XXXVI. The Answer 314 

XXXVII. The Swing of the Pendulum . . . 328 

XXXVIII. Peniel 337 

XXXIX. Out of Darkness Into His Marvel- 
lous Light 344 

XL. A Lonely Barque Upon the Mighty 

Deep 355 

XLI. Scaling the Higher Heights . . . 360 

Epilogue 368 




























































0 










PROLOGUE 

Lo, this only have I found, that God hath made man upright. 

— Ecclesiastes. 

I know not how most books are written. 

I know how this one came to me — oft troubling me in 
the long night watch, when otherwise I would have 
slept ; oft flashing across my busy path and, with soft 
compelling touch, bidding me “ Be still and write ” ; 
and always, when it came, filling my heart with a great 
desire, thus stilling my life with the silence of prayer. 

I, the prisoner, lay upon my bed. 

The June sunshine streamed in through the open win- 
dow, and joined hands with the mirror. Together, 
they threw gay discs of light — bright-hued as is the 
opal fire — upon my prison walls, there to coquet among 
a pretence of climbing roses — roses drawn by a hand 
that loved them, drawn even while they grew. How 
else did they speak of summer gardens and sweet June 
life? How else did they whisper to the gentle breeze 
that seemed to stir their leaves? How else did the bud 
speak so clearly of promise, and the bloom smile with 
the rapture of hope passed into fruition? I had chosen 
that paper in spite of protest. “ The carmine will 
fade,” they told me. No matter! My will was law': 
but even as paste touched paper, I sighed, realising 
that always I commanded, except in the one thing for 
which I greatly longed — the one thing that I had asked 
of life for many weary years. 


1£ 


PROLOGUE 


That midsummer day, my restless glance left the 
dancing discs of light and turned outward, there to 
linger momentarily upon the grace and beauty of the 
silver birch. The brightness of its summer robe, the 
tender whiteness of its bark and the gentle yielding of 
its rounded limbs held my thought to love — to love 
most passing fair, but all too frail, and thus imper- 
fect, holding within itself the seeds of death, the doom 
of all mortality. 

Roving onward, deep crimson and palest rose caught 
my eye and chained it, a willing captive, to the queenly 
rhododendron, whose crowns of royal splendour gave 
token of the lavish month of June. What a wealth of 
living colour was there ! Its charm increased, its beauty 
doubled, as, earth meeting sky, each wound loving arms 
about the other in the clear waters of the lake. Tossed 
upon the bright blue of reflected ether, lay round clouds, 
richly white. Nestling within their bosom, half hid- 
den, half revealed, softly blushed the rhododendron. 
Now meeting with the quick embrace of love, now part- 
ing with a lingering touch, the boughs of noble elm 
and bending birch caressed the whole, picturing the 
while burnished greens and purple greys upon the 
shining surface beneath their feet. 

I, the prisoner, manacled to my bed, turned face to 
pillow and groaned within my heart, “ How long, dear 
God! how long! . . . The glory of heaven upon 

earth out there: within my soul — the pangs of hell! 
And betwixt the two — a great gulf fixed ! ” 

One day I found upon my bed a little book: black 
it was, and ordinary. 

Three times I threw it from me. Three times he 
brought it back. 


PROLOGUE 13 

Yet once again he pleaded, “ Beloved, if not for 
your own, for my sake, and for theirs ! ” 

“ Sweet,” I said at last, “ for your sake and for 
theirs, I will try to understand.” 

I held the thing within my hand; I turned it here, 
I turned it there. Black it was without, and dark 
within. I could not understand. 

A woman stood beside my bed. Soft-voiced she 
was, and sweet of face. “ Nay,” she said, “ it is not 
black nor dark within, but of the purest gold.” 

I thought her mad. 

Once more she spoke, “ There is a way, but only 
one; take it, and understand.” 

“ This way,” I asked, “ whither leads it, and its 
name? ” 

“ It leads,” she said, “ to Freedom, and its name is 
Silent Prayer.” 

I held her with astonished gaze. 

Then loud I laughed and long. It was so very droll! 
Despair sat by my side ; Death reached out cold white 
arms. Pray! I had prayed while the days passed 
into weeks, full-laden with the burden of their tears. 
I had prayed while those weeks merged slowly into 
months of that unholy calm which is the devil’s 
rhapsody — when the eyes are dry and the lips are 
still, save that perchance they twitch into a smile at 
the sight of another’s tears. Kind fools ! to weep in 
pity, when the bleeding heart, its passion spent, and 
the tortured limbs, all tempest-torn, are one in their 
voiceless pain! Blind fools! to weep in pity for that 
which passeth tears! ... I had prayed whilst 
from out the womb of that Satanic calm dropped forth 
the still-born years. Ah me! that laboured lingering 


14 


PROLOGUE 


birth with its foul fruitage all of woe! Ah me! those 
hopeless, helpless, endless years! I marvelled when 
men called them living, for / knew them to be dead. 
The devil’s horrid counterfeit of life, they lay behind 
me and before, a ghastly throng; they mocked me 
where they lay; the face of each defaced, the form 
of each defiled, by the cruel hand of a dread monotony. 
. . . I had prayed whilst the nights of hell’s own 

revelry gave hideous promise of eternal woe, and thus 
— the end! Pray? oh! my mirth, it shook me merrily! 
Pray? to understand a thing like this? 

Once more the answer came, 44 It is the only way.” 
And thus she left me. 

That day, Death held his face to mine, and promised 
me deep sleep and rest from pain. Almost, I let his 
lips rest on my own. But Doubt sprang up and shouted 
in my ear ; 44 How know you that his promise is not 
vain? There is a life beyond! ” 

Again Death whispered to my heart, but now, I knew 
he mocked my need, though I knew not how I knew it. 
Methought I heard hell’s laughter, so soft ! so low ! and 
yet, though soft, too subtle to be sweet. I turned me 
in my chains, and as I turned, a little child climbed on 
my bed, and wound soft arms about my neck. So 
small she was and weak, she held me back. Perforce, 
I prayed once more. But first, I placed my finger 
on my lips, and thus I raised my heart to God. 

And lo ! within mine hand, beneath mine eye, I found 
a thing of gold. Its very shape had changed! A 
key, it seemed to be, of strange device and strength 
most rare. And right within its heart, behold, a 
pearl ! and deeply graved upon that pearl, these words ; 
44 This is the key: unlock the ‘Word,’ Search diiep 


PROLOGUE 


15 


within its very soul; find there, and keep , that all- 
inclusive gift of God to man — the Truth.” 

I placed the key within the lock. Slowly at first, 
then quickly, and more quickly yet it turned. 

Now stilled with wonder, now rent by doubt; anon, 
borne upward by the might of Hope — so strong of 
wing and eagle-eyed — I searched; I found; through 
all eternity I keep — the Truth. 

Through all eternity I thank my God who gave the 
Truth to me. I thank that child of God, that brave 
New England woman, who, by the grace of God, has 
wrought a key so fine and strong, that it has opened 
wide the Word of God, and thrown upon the sacred 
page the clear white light of love divine. 

We, who try to follow, guess a little what it must 
have cost to make that key of purest gold. We know, 
though only something, of the fire through which she 
must have passed, when throwing the searchlight of 
this revelation upon the darkened thought of ages. 
And knowing, though so little, we yet thank God 
Almighty for her patience and her love. 

And thus it was, that the white-winged angel Hope 
first came to me, and waked my slumbering soul from 
lethargy to life: while her gentle sister, Faith, so soft 
of tread, so still of voice, stood by my side, and pointed 
to the Light, till their beauteous mother, Love — the 
greatest of the three — holding a hand of each, bent 
over me and pressed upon my weary brow — the kiss 
of peace. 

And now, together, they pointed to the Light. And 
within the Light, I saw a crown, and upon that crown 
a great word written — a word so high, and broad, and 


16 


PROLOGUE 


long, and deep, that I could not read its name aright. 
But as I tried, and tried again, the days rose up 
and clapped their hands, then bid me merrily, Adieu. 
For the weeks were there in joyous mood. But scarcely 
had they smiled upon my path than the gladsome 
months were with me. And then — I lost all count of 
time, for its day was done, and it meekly bowed before 
a far-off glimmer of Eternity: for I had learned to 
read that word aright, though still I knew not all its 
depth. No mortal may know that; for the measure 
of that word is All Eternity. But even now much may 
be known; for even here, the mortal may begin to 
put on Immortality. And as my life is filled with 
gratitude, my heart sends forth a long, full note of 
praise, and I bow more low than I ever dreamed that I 
could bow, and yet! not low enough. For as my hope 
soars higher than I ever dreamed a human hope could 
soar, my life is shaken by a mighty sound, sublime and 
wonderful ! Surging about my onward path, it sweeps 
a matter-world away and throws a chastened suppliant 
at the feet of Mind. Prostrate I lay, till I, my pride 
rebuked, learned a great lesson of Eternity — that Hope, 
to be true Hope, must first be shorn of mad ambition’s 
earthy wings, ere it may wear the vesture of humility 
and rise on pinions all divine. Now my whole being 
bows before the Majesty of God; and once again, more 
clearly than before, I hear that mighty sound — surely 
an impartation of an endless harmony! And lo ! em- 
braced within that glorious song, yet ever individual, I 
hear that same full note of praise ; but fuller, stronger, 
purer than before. Now holy awe lays chastening 
hand upon my head, as I whisper to my heart, “ Can 
this thing be? May man, while yet on earth, make 


PROLOGUE 


17 


one with that sweet choir above? ” For answer, I 
swiftly search the “ little book ” within my hand, and 
there I read of Man, the work of God. Man! as he 
is, as he always has been, and as he ever more shall 
be , — the perfect offspring of the only Mind. Now, 
as I read and read again, lo ! far and wide throughout 
the vastness of Infinity, I see that “ Fourth ” for 
which a matter-world has searched in vain. And as 
I look and look again, I hear a voice as the voice of 
many angels say, “ Come unto me and live.” Hearing, 
I must needs obey, and thus perpetual peace is mine, 
for one by one the fetters fall away. And now, with 
steadfast glance upheld, I see Man roam — strong, free, 
new-born — amid the height and depth, the breadth, 
the length, the wealth of Mind. Upon Purity’s white 
pinions, far outspread and all begleamed with light, 
he rises, ever rises, from sense to Soul, till lo ! he stands 
revealed — the image and the likeness of his God ! And 
thus I see Man live forever, individualised in infinite 
variety, high-poised within the Eternal Three, upheld 
by the Almighty power of that Immortal “ Fourth ” — 

AT ONE WITH GOOD. 



Part I 

DRAMATIS PERSONA? 

OR 

TANGLED THREADS IN THE 
HAND OF MAN 

All the world’s a stage 
And all the men and women merely players: 
They have their exits and their entrances. 

— Shakespeare. 












CHAPTER I 


MIST 

What is life? *Tis but a madness. 

What is life? A mere illusion, 

Fleeting pleasure, fond delusion, 

Short-lived joy that ends in sadness, 

Whose most constant substance seems 
But the dream of other dreams. 

Calderon . 

Most of the room was in shadow, but the carefully 
arranged blind permitted a strong light to rest upon 
the couch whereon lay, at full length, a young man. 

Another man, in regulation frock-coat of sombre 
hue, sat before his desk, moving nothing but his right 
hand. With firmly held pen he made notes in a dreary 
folio before him. 

Suddenly, the stillness was broken. Very quietly, 
the recumbent man asked a momentous question. 

“ How long have I to live ? ” 

Sir James Norton placed his pen across the rack 
with some deliberation. He was a little taken aback 
by the cool delivery of the unexpected query; and it 
was not until his trained eye detected a certain hard- 
ness in his patient’s look, that he realised how com- 
pletely the sick man understood the situation. 

“ It is clearly impossible to speak with certainty 
upon such a matter,” he replied gently ; “ we must 
hope for the best. You are a young man, and of 
course that is in your favour.” 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


The Duke looked' steadily into the doctor’s face. 

“ How long have I to live ? ” He repeated the words 
calmly, though a little wearily. 

“ I cannot say,” the doctor answered, with the faint- 
est touch of asperity in his tone. Then, compelled by 
the steadiness of the quiet gaze fixed upon him, he 
added : “ Of course all excitement must be avoided, for 
another attack of hemorrhage like the last might be 
very weakening to the system.” 

“ Thanks ! ” 

The young man rose and stood for a moment deep 
in thought. 

Then he returned the prescription which Sir James 
had just handed him, gently remarking, “ For many 
years I have taken much medicine; on the whole, I 
think I will not take any more ; ” and the hardness of 
the mouth relaxed a little, for the Duke was smiling. 

At the street door he turned and said, with the 
gentle courtesy which always endeared him to those 
with whom he came in touch, “ I am grateful for your 
attentive care of my case — very grateful to you for 
arranging the consultation here to-day. As you know, 
I am anxious about my wife. She gains strength very 
slowly and we try to spare her as much as possible, 
for to-morrow we go North, — our little son is to be 
christened this week.” 

A minute later Sir James re-entered his consulting 
room. He stood for a moment thinking deeply, then 
he tore his rejected prescription neatly in half and, 
with a manner still preoccupied, consigned it to the 
waste-paper basket. 

No one knew better than the celebrated physician 
that drugs were entirely useless in such a case as this; 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


but, of course, he must follow the usual routine and 
send his patient from stethoscope to pharmacy. And 
here a thought, long dormant, woke to vigorous action 
and fretted the doctor’s rather weary brain; uncon- 
sciously, but none the less deliberately, he turned his 
back upon the thought. It grew in strength and faced 
him. This time he ordered it away. But the thought 
had made its home with him too long and now became 
importunate. When had it entered, unrecognised, 
into his mind? Futile question! Perhaps* in boy- 
hood’s day, when, Homer in hand, he had sought the 
assistance of his Liddell and Scott. Unconsciously 
impelled by the worrying thought, he now turned to 
his bookshelves and took down his old-time companion 
which had rested there undisturbed for many years. 
Soon he found that which he, half protestingly, 
sought. 

44 &dp[xaKov ,” (Pharmakon) ; 44 a drug , whether heal- 
ing or noxious.” Then, in Homer, “ a healing remedy , 
medicine ” generally applied outwardly. Next, in the 
later classics, 44 an enchanted potion, spell, incanta- 
tion.” Next, “ a poison (as Shakespeare uses drug ).” 

Turning to the derivatives he found : — 44 <\>appaK.da” 
(pharmakeia) ; 44 the using of medicine” 44 pharmacy .” 
Generally, 44 the use of any kind of drugs , potions , 
spells , fyc. ; ” also 44 poisoning ” and 44 witchcraft ” 

Again, “ ^appaKevs” (pharmakeus), “a poisoner , 
sorcerer; ” and, in later Greek, 44 a druggist apothe- 
cary” 

The philological connection between thd original 
Greek and the various English derivatives was ob- 
vious. 

Sir James Norton was a religious man and knew 


24 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


his Bible well. He read it more often than any other 
book — works on materia medica excepted. The beauty 
of the Old Testament phraseology especially appealed 
to his love of euphony, and he constantly read it for 
the mere pleasure of indulging his poetical sense. 
Now thought played upon the words which he had 
just studied and reminded him that recourse to such 
agencies is repeatedly forbidden in the Bible. The 
matter worried him. He had tried all his life to obey 
the teaching of his orthodox religion, but of late he 
had become more and more dissatisfied, as he noted one 
self-evident inconsistency therein after another. Now 
he shut the Greek Lexicon with an impatient gesture 
and sighed as he returned it to its place. 

Throwing himself heavily into an armchair, he gazed 
discontentedly around his consulting room. Those 
four walls had looked upon much that was not pleas- 
ant. To-day, an atmosphere of gloom seemed to 
emanate unrelieved from the sad brown of their dis- 
temper. There were times, and this was one of them, 
when the whole room became unbearable to Sir James, 
for it seemed to whisper to him of women’s tears and 
of men’s white-faced sorrow. / 

Upon that sofa had lain a world-worn gambler. 

“ Give up the cards ” — and the man had laughed — 
“for the sake of my wife and child! Why, doctor, 
the wife is dead, and I am glad, for she was often 
hungry here; and the girl — the girl is worse than 
dead, and I am glad; for she was often hungry, too! 
Give up the cards! Why, man! you know that I 
cannot ! 99 

Leaning against that mantelshelf, the weary-faced 
boy — too weary to laugh — had said, “ Doctor ! of 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 85 

course I will go abroad if you wish it ; where the sun 
shines and the sky is blue ! ” and then coughing, he 
had stained his handkerchief red. “Why not? There 
are wine and women everywhere; and . . . the 

money will last the year ! ” 

There had sat a wailing woman, repentant, because 
in pain. 

“ Doctor,” she had cried, “ tell me that the child 
will not inherit this awful craving. I had rather that 
it should die unborn ! ” Upon that same chair had 
sat, years later, that same woman’s child, and she, 
in her turn, had wailed, “ Doctor, you know that I 
cannot help it! You know that the thing is in- 
herited. ” 

And hearing, Sir James had remembered. He must, 
he thought, have drunk in with his mother’s milk the 
knowledge of “ a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of 
the fathers upon the children, unto the third and fourth 
generation of them that hate me.” 

But why, my brother, stop there? Go on; and re- 
member the glorious promise which awaits every child 
of man, who elects to rise above the thraldom of the 
flesh and learns to love , thus ceasing to hate. Is it 
not also written, “ and showing mercy unto thousands 
of them that love me and keep my commandments ”? 
Nay, more! Is it not further written, “What mean 
ye, that ye use this proverb concerning the land of 
Israel, saying, The fathers have eaten sour grapes, 
and the children’s teeth are set on edge. As I live, 
saith the Lord God, ye shall not have occasion any 
more to use this proverb in Israel.” 

To-day the great London physician realised that 
for years, while longing to help, he had yet stood 


26 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


helpless by, unable to cure man’s sickness, because he 
could not make man cease from sin; and, as he rumi- 
nated upon his life of unavailing toil, a tired look stole 
over Sir James’ sensitive face. 

44 How seldom have I cured! ” he exclaimed ; 44 how 
seldom have I done more than alleviate ! ” 

Almost passionately he muttered ; 44 I’m weary of 
this. For thirty years to battle with disease! for 
thirty years to think, to work, and even to pray, as 
I have done — as hundreds of other men have done — 
and to get no further! To find no certainty any- 
where ; nothing but vague hypotheses ; and always in 
the end — death ! ” 

Aye, doctor; for thirty years to battle, to think, to 
work, and even to pray! And for your honest effort, 
to receive much money and more fame, but always 
the heartache which is interlinked with the secret con- 
viction of failure ! Pause, Doctor, a moment and listen 
to an echo from the past : — 

44 One thing is needful and Mary hath chosen that 
good part.” 

44 There is a spirit in man : and the inspiration of 
the Almighty giveth them understanding.” 


CHAPTER II 


SHADOW-LAND 

Tell me not in mournful numbers. 

Life is but an empty dream. 

For the soul is dead that slumbers. 

And things are not what they seem. 

. — Longfellow . 

While Sir James Norton thus soliloquised, his distin- 
guished patient drove further westward. With eyes 
half closed, he lay back upon the soft leather which 
cushioned his brougham, and that great impressionist 
— man’s imagination — dashed a vivid picture upon the 
canvas of his mind. 

There he saw the interior of a beautiful chapel. 
Strong shafts of light, richly dyed, threw their radi- 
ance upon the central figures of a stately group. A 
background of oak, carved by the hand of a master 
craftsman and deeply empurpled by age, formed a 
regal setting for the font of cloud-white marble which 
shone forth softly as might the purest pearl. Almost 
lost to sight within the lawn-draped arms of episco- 
palian dignity lay a little child. Gathered around 
were men and women of high degree. There stood a 
royal princess, and next to her he saw his wife. . . . 

Here fear caught 'the man about the heart, and bade 
him give pause and observe that, with the ripening of 
her motherhood, his wife’s loveliness bespoke the pale 
27 


28 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

beauty of the snowdrop, rather than, as heretofore, 
the straightness and strength of the lily. . . . And 

his it was to tell her that the little babe, his child and 
hers, must, while still a child, bear the full weight of 
a great inheritance. God grant that he be not com- 
pelled to carry also the burden of his race’s woe! 

The weary man’s eyes are now quite closed. Worn 
out with the morning’s demands upon his strength, 
he sleeps. And as he sleeps, the glitter and the roar 
of Babylon, softened and beautified out of all simili- 
tude, penetrate his dreams: he stands, a spectator, 
forming an. item in a crowd of rank and wealth. 
Flowers riot in beauteous profusion: tall palms and 
graceful ferns lend their aid to a scene of almost orien- 
tal splendour; here, cloudy lace and shimmering satin, 
and, upon every side, the flash of gems. In the midst 
he sees himself. There he walks, with the light of 
love in his eyes and the glow of possession upon his 
brow. His bride, with sweet eyes downcast and cheeks 
softly flushed with the heritage of Eve, moves by his 
side. Happy faces flank them upon the right and 
left. And now, the great organ speaks: from vaulted 
arch to beautiful mosaic, from reredos to western door, 
the vast cathedral fills with wave upon wave of grand- 
est harmony. Now comes the triumphant march of 
inspired chords; now upswell the ringing sounds of 
revelry, pealing forth upon their joyous way, as do 
merry marriage bells. . . . But hark ! the organ’s 

mighty heart is broken; it throbs with piteous pain. 
Wail upon wail rends its stricken way out upon the 
solemn stillness, which holds the dreamer motionless. 
. . . For see! flowers white and beautiful, but in 

a funeral pile. Changed is the splendid pageant: for 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


29 


mortal love has failed to bar the way, and Death is 
King! Gone are the lightsome faces: all faded is the 
gay attire : all lustreless the erstwhile sparkling gems ! 
The men and the women are there, but each clad in a 
panoply of deepest woe. He sees the bier! He sees 
the darksome pall which drapes its form ! and notes the 
signs of ancient heraldry. . . . And well he knows 

for whom the mourners weep. Each voice is mute: no 
whisper moves upon the air: and yet! — four words of 
solemn import smite upon the dreamer’s heart: — The 
Duke is dead. 


CHAPTER III 


MENTAL ASSASSINATION 


Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer. 

— John. 


44 Look out ! ” 

44 Seems to be in a devil of a hurry, whoever he may 
be ; ” and the speaker stepped hastily back among the 
heather, as a motor flashed past making light of bye- 
laws and police regulations. 

44 That is Lord George Maxwell,” his companion 
answered. 44 He has no doubt been to the little heir’s 
christening. They have evidently made a great day 
of it up at the Castle. Why are you not there ? 99 

Mr. Campbell looked with some interest after the 
swiftly disappearing motor. He knew the Duke of 
Westmoreland well and had, moreover, heard the vil- 
lage talk, which said that Lord George Maxwell would 
soon be owner of the moors for miles around. 

44 I don’t care for functions,” he answered shortly. 
Then turning abruptly to his companion he added, 
44 How is the Duke? Is he really so ill — and the child 
too?” 

44 The Duke is dying,” was the terse reply ; 44 — and 
the child also.” 

44 But, Doctor ” — and the young man’s voice was 
full of protest — 44 1 have heard that said of the Duke 
before; I heard it said when I was fishing in these 
parts three years ago. But I have met him often since 
then and I see no marked change in him.” 

» 30 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


31 


66 Oh, I know report has killed him off more than 
once somewhat prematurely, but this time it’s true. 
I have known the Duke’s family for two generations, 
and my only wonder is that this man should have lived 
so long;” and Doctor Weldon shouldered his rod and 
turned to follow a path which ran across the moors 
in the direction of the village. 

44 Well, I knew him at Eton, and he was strong 
enough then,” his companion answered in an irritated 
tone. The fact was, James Campbell both hated and 
resented the thought of death, and it seemed all wrong 
to him that a young man, standing upon the threshold 
of what might have developed into a great career, 
should thus drop out of his place in the world before 
his work in life was well begun. 

44 He was remarkably strong as a lad, but he was 
doomed before his birth, you know,” and the doctor 
sighed. 

44 Horrid theory, that of heredity,” Mr. Campbell 
answered roughly. 44 Doesn’t seem to me to give a 
man half a chance ! ” 

44 No, it doesn’t,” agreed Doctor Weldon, 44 but un- 
fortunately it is more than a theory. The Duke is 
the only survivor of four brothers anyway. Everyone 
knew that the disease must manifest itself sooner or 
later in him.” 

44 Well, good-bye; hope we’ll have better sport to- 
morrow. This basket is twice too light to please 
me!” James Campbell turned rather abruptly away 
and walked quickly along the road, the swing of con- 
scious strength lending ease and grace to his stride. 
He was deeply depressed by Dr. Weldon’s view of the 
Duke’s condition, for the wealthy nobleman and the 


82 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


dour young Scot were fast friends and had been so 
for years. 

“ So he really is dying this time, it seems ! There 
is a mistake somewhere,” he muttered. “ Men like 
Westmoreland — good fellow that he is — ought not to 
die at the age of twenty-five. I wish one knew more 
about it all. Somehow, I resent being so much in the 
dark. Why don’t the ministers tell us more ? ” Mr. 
Campbell gave the strap across his shoulders a dis- 
satisfied jerk, as he turned into the inn at which he 
spent a summer month in every few years ; for though 
warmly welcomed at the Castle, it suited his inde- 
pendent habits better to be entirely his own master 
at the village inn. 

As the Castle gates clanged to behind Lord George 
Maxwell’s motor, an old man, wearing the ducal livery, 
shook his head despondently as he shot the great bolt 
back to its place. 

“ I’m afeared as how we’ll be a-having him a-duking 
it here afore long ! ” he remarked to the young hunts- 
man who stood watching the swirling dust raised by 
the rush of steel along summer roads. 

“ What ! His Lordship ! Do you mean it ? Is his 
Grace that bad?” And the young fellow’s face grew 
grave; for the reigning Duke was dear to his sports- 
man’s heart. True, it was long since his Grace had 
appeared in pink, but when he had done so man and 
horse moved as one and led the way bravely across 
broad meadow and rusty hedgerow. 

“Aye, he’s a-dying,” curtly rejoined Mr. Barker; 
“ he’s been a-dying these many months, but now — 
well, I’m afeared it’ll be from wedding white to funeral 


S3 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

black, afore the year’s out. The old Dowager, she 
buried all his brothers, afore they could walk a’most, 
and the little Lord Gerald, as he then was, is the 
only one as she managed to breech ! ” 

46 Seems sad, it do,” remarked Williams dully. 46 I’ve 
heard my father say he was as fine a little ’un as you 
could wish, and that well plucked, you could set him 
on anything at ten-year-old. But they do say as how 
consumption’s sure to take ’em all off in this family, 
soon or late.” 

44 Aye, and the little Marquis, he’s but a weakling. 
Them London doctors think very bad of him, I heard 
’em say in the hall last night.” 

With these gloomy prognostications the two men 
parted ; Mr. Barker to tell his 44 old missus ” that he 
thought the time had come for a pension, as he’d no 
fancy for Lord George as his master; while Williams 
spent the next hour talking of the beginning of his 
own life and the end of his master’s, the second house- 
maid meanwhile bearing him willing company. 


Lord George Maxwell sat perfectly still as his car 
carried him homeward, racing its way across the coun- 
try. He had just seen that which made him thought- 
ful, and he had that awaiting him at his journey’s 
end which made him more thoughtful still. 

44 Curse it ! ” he breathed between tightly closed lips, 
44 1 almost wish the positions were reversed. I shall 
have my work cut out to get through with a clean 
face;” — his hands he knew to’ be hopelessly soiled. 
44 Damn those sharks ! It’s all their fault for netting 
me in my teens.” 


84 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


Some years before the day of which I now write, 
Lord George Maxwell had commenced his Oxford career 
already encumbered with debt. The snowball of lia- 
bilities had started to roll even before he had entered 
the sixth at Eaton, and had continued upon its un- 
savoury way, gathering solidity and momentum as the 
years passed on. At first the young nobleman, whose 
diplomatic duties had kept him much out of England, 
had wondered at the alacrity with which the money 
lenders had met his wishes, by making substantial ad- 
vances in exchange for what he knew to be but poor 
security. Later, he understood. Even now, he hated 
to think of that day. Half unconsciously, he dated 
his further moral deterioration from that memorable 
Twelfth. The young Duke of Westmoreland had been 
paying one of his rare visits to England, and at the 
house of a mutual friend, uncle and nephew had met 
for the first time since the latter’s boyhood. It was 
upon this occasion that Lord George had suddenly 
realised that his creditors must have been trading for 
years upon information, new to him but easily obtain- 
able now by one glance at the Duke’s white face and 
shrunken form. Swayed by a strong revulsion of 
feeling, the elder man had sworn to wean himself from 
turf and table, but in vain. With him gambling had 
become a fixed habit, and all other amusements were 
dreary in comparison ; moreover it became increasingly 
easy, he found, to raise money, until quite unexpectedly 
the delicate young Duke married. Immediately Lord 
George Maxwell’s chief creditors became importunate 
in their demands for payment, where, before, they had 
been pressing in their offers of assistance. 

The car had barely drawn up before its occupant 


35 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

leaped out and entered his house, the rough stone por- 
tico of which told the stranger here was one of Eng- 
land’s ancient homesteads. 

“ Has Mr. Lethbridge arrived?” he asked curtly. 

“ Yes, my Lord, he is on the lawn ; ” and the foot- 
man opened the garden door and held it back. 

But Lord George Maxwell was in a state of great 
nervous excitement and was in no hurry to meet his 
guest. He was therefore relieved to hear the dressing- 
gong sound at that moment, and walked straight up 
to his room. He met Mr. Lethbridge half an hour 
later in the hall, and they maintained a superficial con- 
versation during dinner. The meal over, Lord George 
immediately led the way into the library. Both men 
were now smoking and, for a time, neither made any 
attempt to speak. Suddenly, however, Mr. Lethbridge 
rose from his chair and, opening the door sharply, 
looked out into the hall; closing it he returned to his 
seat. 

“ No one there now, at any rate,” he remarked, 
“ but I like to be sure before discussing these personal 
matters.” 

His host did not reply and after awhile Mr. Leth- 
bridge continued, “ You are sure it really is all over 
this time? ” and he laughed softly; “ fact is,” he added, 
“ his Grace has been altogether too long about making 
his exit to suit my book.” 

Lord George winced. What a brute this refined- 
looking, soft-mannered man was in reality, and how 
he hated him! With a sort of wonder, he reflected 
upon the fast friendship which had once existed between 
them. 

“ I am sure,” he answered dryly. 


36 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


44 He was pretty bad some time ago,” Mr. Leth- 
bridge remarked, 44 but he has lived long enough to 
marry and to perpetuate the race, you see.” 

44 To marry, but not to perpetuate the race ; the 
child’s life isn’t worth a cent, and the Dukedom is as 
good as mine. You may safely back that bill, it’s only 
a matter of a few weeks now ! ” Lord George spoke 
sharply, for he hated the whole transaction and wished 
to be done with it quickly. 

44 1 believe it is, and so I will help you round this 
nasty corner: it’s about touch and go with you, eh! 
old chap? And when you are reigning at Knares- 
dale, why, I will not forget to look you up ! ” and again 
Mr. Lethbridge laughed gently, as he put his name 
to the bill in front of him, but still rested his strong 
slender fingers upon it. 

44 Now,” he continued, 44 please sign this! ” 

44 I’m damned if I do ! ” and Lord George seized the 
paper which the other man had placed before him, 
and tore it across and across. 

Once more Mr. Lethbridge laughed in his exasperat- 
ing manner. Nothing ever angered him: he was known 
to have the coolest head and the steadiest hand among 
his set. 

44 My dear chap, don’t make a scene ; it’s too hot.” 

44 I’ll never sign that ! ” and Lord George Maxwell 
struck his chair with the flat of his hand. 44 The con- 
dition is unheard of! There are some things that a 
gentleman may not do ! ” 

44 There are many things that a gentleman may not 
do ! but — I have seen them done ! ” 

Mr. Lethbridge spoke quietly as ever, but his voice 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 37 

held a note of inflexibility, which the other had heard 
before and had reason to recognise as final. 

Lord George rose and striding to the French win- 
dow flung it roughly open. A look, not good to see, 
settled in his eyes and, when five minutes later he 
turned and walked slowly up to his companion, his 
face was white enough to startle even Frank Leth- 
bridge. For a time the man was silent, though twice 
he essayed to speak ; then passionate words of miserable 
self-surrender rushed from between his teeth. 

46 Damn you, Lethbridge ! I would to God I had 
never seen your face. Give me the cursed thing and 
let me sell my soul as soon as may be ! ” 

Mr. Lethbridge selected a sheet of Lord George’s 
crested notepaper from a basket upon the writing- 
table, and carefully, with deliberate slowness, he wrote 
a few lines upon it, but, when a minute later two 
insignificant-looking pieces of paper changed hands, 
his usually expressionless face changed a little, for he 
had managed the business beautifully. It had required 
much patience, more judgment, but the work was well 
done ; more thoroughly indeed than the poor fool before 
him yet realised. Time enough for him, Frank Leth- 
bridge, to show his hand ungloved, when he fulfilled 
his promise and looked his lordship up at Knaresdale — 
and not long to wait now, he knew, for he too had seen 
the Duke of late and had looked at him with the 
critical eye of 44 waiting man.” 

44 Well, the sooner the better,” and Mr. Lethbridge 
held out his hand to his host as he bade him good- 
night. He smiled again at his companion’s childish 
discourtesy in ignoring the conventional salute. 


38 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


Left alone, Lord George remained for hours in the 
library, and it was not until early morning that he 
rose from his chair and sought his bedroom. 

What had he done? Signed away the honour of a 
woman who had once loved and trusted him? Well! 
Such things had been done before and would be done 
again. Poverty was apt to drive both men and women 
to hell! 

So let both men and their vile schemes pass from 
our minds, even as they leave the pages of this book. 
Merely introduced to uncover a danger that has been 
too long ignored, they have done their work ; and those 
who follow this history will note that in the great 
battle between good and evil, the powers of darkness 
cannot finally prevail against the children of the Light. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE MESMERISM OF FEAR; OR, “ THROUGH THE 
VALLEY OF THE SHADOW” 

The Great and angry deep: — 

Chasms black and awful! 

Moving mountains, strong, relentless, terrible, 
Cruel-capped with deathly white! 

A rushing mighty wind — 

The roar of hell gone mad; 

The gleeful shriek of fiends let loose! 

Death-dealing swords of flame, fiercely 
Darting through the night: 

The guns of Satan booming loud and long; 

And overhead a canopy of deepest gloom. 

From high heaven comes a voice “ Peace be still ! ” 

Softly, lovingly breathes the voice. 

Gently gleams a golden light, 

And Satan’s host hath fled. 

The great deep smiles like a child at rest; 

The heavens reflect the glory of God, 

And kiss the wavelets with the light of Love; 

And there is a great calm. 

The Spirit of God, mighty, serene, most wonderful, 
Moves upon the face of the waters; 

And Love Omnipotent reigneth. 

At the same hour as that at which Lord George Max- 
well and Mr. Lethbridge parted for the night, the Duke 
of Westmoreland rose from the long couch, upon which 
he rested often now, and walked down the corridor by 
his wife’s side. Before he opened the further door, he 
turned and drew her within his arm. 


39 


40 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


“ Beloved,” he said, “ the day has been long for 
us both, but I have still much to do, so I will not dis- 
turb your rest, but will go to my own room later ; ” 
and he raised her face to his and gently kissed it. 

“Dearest, must you write again to-night?” she 
asked; “what is it that keeps you so busy? ” 

For answer he passed his lips across her cheek and 
brow, till she, framing his face within soft palms, held 
him still and lightly pressed her kisses upon his lips. 

“ My love,” the Duke spoke softly, “ I have many 
things to put in order, and — time is passing.” 

Not hearing the grave warning which he thus tried 
to give, lightly and lovingly she laughed her sweet 
reply ; “ Then, husband and lover, good-night.” As 
she withdrew her form from his lingering embrace, a 
great tenderness expressed itself in his low whisper 
of love which breathed its gentle way among the gold 
of her hair and softly touched the bloom of her cheek, 
till her own love bade it pause and rest silently within 
the sanctuary of a pure wife’s heart. 

At the head of the marble stairs, the Duchess turned 
and rounding each delicate finger tip, the one upon the 
other, she formed a rosy chalice and prisoned therein 
a kiss. Bending a glance from love-lit eyes upon the 
man who watched her from below, she threw her kiss 
upon the air, thus bidding him once more her sweet 
good-night. 

He caught her kiss upon bravely smiling lips, but 
a sudden dew shone in his eyes as he slowly reached 
the topmost stair and wound his arms about her. 

And even as heart beat , upon heart, Death warned 
him of its near approach and shortened the breath 
with which he would have bade his wife farewell. 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


41 


The Duke rose restlessly from his writing-table and 
walked out through the open door on to the battle- 
ments. Built many centuries ago, the Castle stood at 
the head of a wild glen, overlooking a little hamlet 
which nestled in the valley below. From this vantage 
point, many of the Duke’s broad lands were visible, 
and to-night he realised more clearly than ever before 
the greatness of his possessions. Purple moors 
stretched around him upon every side. Bordered on 
the westward by the sea, there to the eastward by the 
heights of Skaw, and before him, as far as the eye 
could reach, by the winding silver ribbon within whose 
shining folds the salmon hid : it was a goodly heritage. 

At the moment the night was made beautiful by 
reason of the moon’s clear light, but clouds were mov- 
ing up and betokened the approach of a time of tumult 
among the elements. 

For some minutes the sick man stood still with his 
hands loosely clasped behind his back: presently, the 
nervous fingers tightened their hold upon each other, 
and he raised his white face, while he asked unanswer- 
able questions of the quiet night. 

44 Rank, and lands, and wealth,” he muttered, 44 1 
have always had, but the love is new and sweet. 
I would to God that I could keep it. Why may I 
not? Why have I been crowned with the joy of love, 
only to be dethroned by the hand of Death? Of what 
use is all this ” — and he swept his arm out and around 
with a passionate gesture — 44 of what use to a dead 
man ? ” 

And now the Duke paced slowly up and down upon 
the battlements. 44 How long and how useless has been 
my search for health ! ” he cried aloud. 44 I have sought 


42 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


it upon the Mediterranean shore ; I have pined for it 
all along the Riviera; I have hoped and prayed for it 
among the suns and snows of Davos. I have sailed 
weary miles across the ocean, even to the Antipodes ; I 
have endured unnatural temperatures between four 
walls ; I have encamped upon the African veld ; always 
seeking, but never finding health. Like a foolish trav- 
eller, I have chased a will-o’-the-wisp which, bright and 
beautiful, seemed constantly to be almost within my 
grasp, but which always mocked me in the end as it 
faded from my sight.” 

The fevered man dropped his head upon his breast 
and let both arms hang inert by his side. Then, like a 
hunted creature, he turned suddenly and, entering the 
Castle, sped his steps from room to room, out into the 
gallery, down the central stairs, onward through the 
corridor and drawing-rooms, across the great hall, only 
pausing when he reached the doors which gave entrance 
to the state-rooms. These he entered and paced their 
length again and again. And now hot words rush 
from between the fevered lips, impelled by the volcanic 
thought which gives them birth. Why had he fled 
thus madly into these great rooms? How dreary they 
seem in their set grandeur and their wrappings of 
chintz: how dead and white they look bathed in the 
moon’s cold light ! And what is this he sees ? A black 
frock coat ; a keen and clever face ! And that other 
man, young, drawn up to his full height, receiving 
with befitting calm his death warrant 1 Death, and 
after? Some had preached to him of purgatory; some 
had coldly said, “ annihilation ” ; some — most sure that 
they themselves were saved — had thundered of “ hell- 
fire ” ; others had lulled his sense to sleep by gentle 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


43 


murmurs of “ Elysian rest ” ; and others, — oh, their 
name was legion ! All held the other wrong, themselves 
alone were right! Not one could give a reason for the 
faith within him! Not one could prove the substance 
of his words . Women sometimes talked of “ love be- 
yond the grave,” but they were women only, sweet and 
good, but most unreasonable. 

Thus, doubt and fear, twin brethren of the flesh, 
assail him, and for a while they hold him mute: then 
a sound presses its^way between the man’s white lips. 
Falling harshly upon the still night air, it wails its 
length onwards through lofty hall and empty corridor, 
dying at last because unfit to live — the cry of a broken 
heart, the child of doubt and fear. 

That midsummer night was long remembered in the 
vale of the Hesk, for such destruction had never be- 
fore been seen there in the memory of any man then 
alive. 

The storm disturbed the Duchess: first mingling 
with her dreams and causing her to turn and turn 
again among the soft down and fine cambric upon which 
she lay, it finally awakened her to a troubled con- 
sciousness, beclouded with the terror of her recent 
dream. 

Swirling sheets of water flung themselves in impo- 
tent fury against the strong glaze of the window pane 
which denied them entrance. The elements, let loose, 
made mad music as they met and met again, holding 
wild revelry all through the blackness of the night. 
To the westward the sea rose up full-crested in its 
wrath and, marshalling all its forces, formed line upon 
line of cruel black and white, between whose awful 


44 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


heights there lay dark depths of hellish treachery ; 
whilst the wind, winding her mighty arms about the 
giant elm, uplifted it and, tearing it from its home of 
a hundred years, shrieked gleefully as she threw it all 
its length upon the sodden earth. Then, dancing on 
with frantic haste, she parted the mother and the child 
and laughed to see the birch all bare and white, where 
bough was rent from parent stem. She laughed again, 
but this time with a still and noiseless mirth, as, hold- 
ing in her breath, she made ready to surpass herself 
in her work of devilish despoliation. The smiling 
moon now fled aghast, hiding herself behind the canopy 
of jet-dyed clouds which curtained all the heavens. 
And the angry storm clapped its hands and boomed 
with thunderous voice, as it hurled white crystals upon 
the land and crushed the life from tender summer flow- 
ers. The lightning flashed its vivid way, now here, 
now there, until it met and mastered the chapel spire; 
then, pleased with the ruin it had wrought, it lit up 
earth and sky to show its handiwork to men. 

At an early hour the next morning every man, 
woman and child upon the estate knew that the Duke 
of Westmoreland was dying. 

The storm still raged, but busy workmen were al- 
ready employed in repairing the broken telegraph wires. 
Meanwhile, the ill news sped rapidly from mouth to 
mouth, as such news does, losing nothing upon its 
journey, and before noon the Duke was reported dead. 

It was almost night ; the hours had come and gone, 
and still the Duke lived. Sir James Norton had ar- 
rived from London, and the Duchess had left him in 
consultation with Dr. Weldon. Now, as the two men 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


45 


entered the room, she rose from her chair and remained 
standing while they approached her. Immediately she 
read that in their grave faces which rendered question 
upon her part unnecessary. 

“ Your Grace,” Sir James Norton’s voice was quiet 
and dragged a little, but it nevertheless sounded cruelly 
distinct, “ I thought it right to warn the Duke some 
days ago that he must avoid all excitement, for I knew 
that his reserve of strength was not sufficient to enable 
him to rally from ” 

“ Stop ! ” and the Duchess raised her hand with a 
gesture more peremptory than she dreamed of. “ I 
understand,” she continued gently, “ you can give 
me no hope.” 

With a bluntness bom partly of the pain that he 
felt and partly of his country life, Dr. Weldon joined 
his voice to that of his London confrere. 

“ There is no hope,” he said ; and his tone was 
roughened by the remembrance of that which he had 
left upstairs. 

The stricken lady never moved, but stood before 
them straight and tall. So still she stood that both 
men marvelled. Had she heard aright? Had she 
really understood? 

But the whiteness of her face and the slight tremor 
of her under lip told something of her silent woe. At 
last she spoke. 

“ I thank you both, I shall not leave the Duke 
again.” 

And she bent her head with gentle courtesy and 
even smiled a little, as she passed both men at the 
open door. 

The rpinutes only had come and gone, when a swift- 


46 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


winged message left the Duke’s private office and within 
the hour arrived at its destination — a small London 
house. 

Leaving the office, the Duchess passed swiftly up- 
stairs. Reaching her husband’s room, she stood for a 
moment framed within the arched doorway. 

A dark shade softened the glare of the lamp. It 
kept the dying man in shadow but allowed a beam of 
light to rest athwart the entrance to the room. As 
the watching lady stood upon the threshold, her white 
gown shimmered softly and the bright gold of her 
hair gleamed amid the semi-darkness of the lofty room. 
Her face was grave and very still, but in her eyes 
there shone the light of hope. 

The nurse advanced from her post beside the sick 
man’s bed. With a silent gesture the Duchess waved 
her aside and, as the woman passed her, issued a quiet 
command, “ Leave me, I will watch alone.” 

Advancing, she knelt beside the bed and, folding her 
husband’s hand within her own, spoke in a voice which, 
though low, was very clear. 

“ Can you hear me, Gerald? I have telegraphed 
to Mr. Meade.” 

The sick man opened his eyes and smiled gently. 

“ My white lily,” he whispered, “ nothing can help - 
me now.” 

“ Gerald, these people do get wonderful answers to 
their prayers after others have failed, I know; try to 
hope that you will recover.” 

The sick man did not answer, except to hold, with 
what firmness he might, his wife’s cool hand. But 
his thought rose and fell, strangely disturbed by this 




THE SEAMLESS ROBE 47 

suggestion of life, when even now he seemed to hear 
the measured footfall of his inexorable enemy, Death. 

Presently ... all thought stood still, held and 
bound by the power of a woman’s voice. 

Clearly he heard the words she uttered, and eagerly 
he drank their meaning in, for they were words of Love 
and Life — words of longing and of trustful, hopeful 
prayer. 

It was the hour of dawn. The great storm, its wild 
passion spent, sank wearily to rest. Westward, all 
was calm and clear, for the raging billows had rolled 
away, and the mighty deep lay still, save where it 
caressed the shore with a murmurous song of pure 
delight. The heavens, now radiant with a golden 
gleam, showered their wealth of summer glory far 
and wide. Sweet songs of love and life thrilled out 
upon the air, as the lark spread strong wing and 
mounted higher, ever higher, in its flight from earth 
to sky. And now, with imperial might, the sun held 
sway over all the land, waking to newness of joy the 
rain-soaked earth and warming to vigorous action the 
myriad heart-beats of the moorland life. 

Within the Castle scarcely a sound was heard. With 
noiseless tread the nurse approached the doctor, as 
he was about to enter the sick man’s room. 

“ His Grace,” she whispered, “ has slept all night, I 
should have called you otherwise.” 

For a moment the doctor paused in mute surprise; 
then he resumed his way. Upon the threshold of the 
chamber he found himself arrested by something which 
he could neither define nor understand. The blackness 


48 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

of his coat failed to capture one ray of light; con- 
spicuous, by force of contrast, was the keen face and 
strong white hand which held back the heavy curtain. 

The Duke was sleeping restfully as does a happy 
child. Looking more closely at him, Sir James Norton 
saw that all nervous tension had relaxed. The sick 
man was evidently destined to pass peacefully away, 
and he thanked God that it was so, for he had not 
expected the end to be so calm. And the Duchess 
looked strangely happy ! Though awake, she appeared 
to rest most perfectly in the low chair placed beside 
the bed. 

Just then she turned and saw the doctor standing’ 
by the door ; smilingly she placed her fingers upon her 
lips. 

The man stood dazed; then, impelled by that which 
he felt but still could not define, he turned and left 
the room. 

What ! ye wondering world. . . . Has a thought 

so much of power? Does Life, in very truth, com- 
mand? Must Death indeed obey? 

The Duchess rose and drew the curtains back, then 
opened wide the lattice panes. Through the high 
casement the sun gleamed in and threw his warm 
smile upon the bed, filling the room with glowing light. 

And hark! Whence comes this song of joyous tri- 
umph, rising, swelling, soaring upon the morning air? 
Or is it a still, small voice, whispering within a woman’s 
heart the answer to that woman’s prayer? 

46 1 am the way, the truth and the life ; ” 46 Follow 
me.” 44 1 am come that they might have life, and that 
they might have it more abundantly.” 


CHAPTER V 


THE UNBURIED DEAD; OR, “THE FRUIT OF HIS 
BODY FOR THE SIN OF HIS SOUL” 

Truth is as impossible to be soiled by any outward touch 
as the sunbeam. 

— Milton. 

During the following winter there was a period of 
intense cold, which will be long remembered by those 
whose hand held no weapon wherewith to fight the 
grim enemy. For the devil, Want, works not alone 
but gathers round him, as he penetrates each noisome 
den, a triad of arch-fiends, even that foul triplet, Sin, 
Disease and Death — all children of the common parent 
Fear; all conceived in the womb of that great illusion 
whom mortal men call Evil; all brought forth by the 
power of — a lie! 

Within a short distance of one of England’s oldest 
towns, there stands a grey stone building, well known 
for miles around as the dwelling of the St. Anselm 
Fathers. 

On the eve of the New Year, in one of the smaller 
rooms, a man sat silently before his desk. The hour 
grew late but still he did not move. Before him lay 
a sheet of notepaper, its surface quite unmarred by 
ink. He appeared to be thinking deeply, and upon 
the strong face signs of a great struggle were visible. 
His cassock was wrapped around him, and twice he 
shivered slightly and drew it closer to his form, for 


50 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


the night was one of bitter frost and the grate was 
fireless. The whole room looked bare and cold, being 
severely furnished only with some few necessaries. A 
skull cap covered the man’s head, completely hiding the 
slight growth of hair which was all that the rules of 
his order permitted. 

Presently he rose and, going to an oaken chest, un- 
locked it. From within the topmost drawer he drew 
forth a letter and for a long time rested his eyes upon 
the few lines which it contained, reading them again 
and again. Replacing the letter and locking the 
chest, he crossed the room and threw himself upon his 
knees beside the bed. Bowing his head upon his folded 
arms, he remained thus through many hours of the 
night. As morning dawned he raised his head and 
rose to the consciousness of another day. 

His decision was made for weal or for woe. And 
now his movements betokened a feverish haste. Rap- 
idly he wrote three lines upon the paper, placed many 
hours before upon his desk. Not pausing to read 
them over, he secured the curt message with a seal 
which hung beneath his vest. Then, reaching a thick 
cloak from a press beside the bed, he drew it on and, 
quickly leaving the room, passed out into the wintry 
air. Looking neither to the right nor left, he made 
his way with speedy steps into the centre of the town. 

Upon the northern side of a mass of grey buildings 
he stopped and for one half moment his grip tightened 
upon the missive which he held within the letter box; 
then suddenly his fingers opened and a look of relief 
spread over his face, as he heard the rustle of paper 
touching paper and knew that his decision was now 
irrevocable. 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


51 


With a half-stifled sigh he turned upon his homeward 
way, walking this time with eyes downcast and scarce 
hastening his footsteps at all: with his right hand he 
folded his cloak firmly across his breast, while the fin- 
gers of his left hand dug deep upon the palm. 

Robert Saul was a man of quite unusual height and 
more spare in form than when he had entered, almost 
a year ago, upon his term of probation at St. Anslem’s 
College, for it was his temperament to out-Herod 
Herod, and the oft recurring fast days were apt to 
find him already fasting. Of a nature strong and 
passionate, he subdued all personal desire by the exer- 
cise of an iron will. Now he felt himself a derelict 
as he realised that, for the first time in his thinking 
life, his nature would not answer to the helm. 

As he walked homeward he glanced swiftly around. 
What a world of black and white was this ! Spread 
like a mantle over all the earth as far as eye could 
reach was the untrodden snow, its crystal surface shin- 
ing with a beauty only half its own, as it caught and 
threw back again the luminous glory of the moon’s 
pale light. Splashed upon its purity were blots of 
inky blackness — dark shadows thrown from each tall 
and narrow house. Within those doors there were, he 
knew, contrasts quite as strong but holding a mean- 
ing full of pain. Scarcely twelve hours before, he had 
seen that which had filled his heart with helpless rage — 
a man, sin-stained and well-nigh mad with drink, and 
upon the wretched bed, a dying maid, who held across 
her breast a new-born babe. 

Something of the light and shade of life the priest 
had realised then, but it was not until years later that, 
looking back upon that day, with head raised high 


52 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


above the mist and thought purified by a selfless love 
for all humanity, he saw things as they really were. 
Then he beheld the sin in all its utter blackness, but 
saw also, there upon that sin-laden bed, a pure young 
life — white as the Mind from whence it came and all- 
unspotted by the mortal thought around. 

But to-night all was dark to Robert Saul; for he 
was a man storm-tossed upon the dark and troubled 
sea of earthly desire. Suddenly he hastened his steps, 
and reaching the side door by which he had left the 
college, he entered a long and narrow passage leading 
to the little room which had so recently been the scene 
of his mighty struggle between duty and desire. In- 
voluntarily he glanced at the chair before his desk; 
then turned his eye to the bed upon which the indent 
of his pressing arms still was visible. There he had 
knelt and prayed at the parting of the ways for the 
light which had not come — which could not come to a 
mind already half made up — prayed to be released 
from the thraldom of a woman’s smile which, by rea- 
son of its very purity, drew him to her with resistless 
force. 

Now he summoned a lay brother and sent him to 
ask for any early interview with the Principal of the 
College. Much sooner than he had anticipated the 
summons came, and with mixed feelings Robert Saul 
hastened to answer it. He found the Father seated 
before his writing table, a half-written sermon upon 
the open desk before him. 

“ Something has come between you and your vow.” 

The Father did not ask a question, but stated, as a 
fact, that of which he could have had no certain knowl- 
edge. 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 53 

Slightly disconcerted, Robert Saul merely replied 
by a brief affirmative. 

The Father waited. 

Like a child repeating an ill-prepared lesson, his 
own strong personality seemingly swamped by the 
masterful mind held over him, the young man haltingly 
continued. “ Yes : my . . . love for a woman.” 

For quite a moment, the Father did not reply; then, 
with rigid courtesy he rose from his chair and held 
out his hand, but he did not look at the man before 
him as he bade him a curt farewell. 

Robert Saul stood amazed ; but the Father had 
already resumed his occupation, and black rapidly grew 
upon white, as line upon line was traced upon the 
foolscap by a hand which never paused. For a waiting 
moment the younger man searched the elder’s face, 
but the clear-cut, emaciated profile might almost have 
belonged to the dead, so white and still it seemed. No 
hint was there of kindly feeling; no whisper of a liv- 
ing love. The man’s deliberate coldness angered Rob- 
ert Saul. He had armed himself against a display 
of deep displeasure or, mayhap, against the persuasive 
eloquence which had first turned his thoughts towards 
the renunciatory life of an ascetic. Either he could 
have met ; but instead, he found himself dismissed with 
less than a glance. Keenly pained, but too proud to 
protest, he turned and left the room. 

The interview had occupied barely five minutes, but 
it had bereft Robert Saul of that upon which he had 
hitherto leant heavily. Almost had he worshipped 
this man: almost had he fancied himself beloved by 
the Father, whose slightest wish had been his law for 
all the year that lay behind. With cruel suddenness 


54 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


he had been roused by those words of calm dismissal. 
Hard and cold as the winter sleet, they had stung 
him sorely as they fell upon his heart: sharp-edged, 
they had overshot their mark and cut deeply into the 
foundations of an unequal friendship — a friendship 
built upon the shifting sands of human personality. 

Now, his most earnest desire was to be gone, as 
soon as might be, for the whole place spoke to him 
of wasted energy and bitter disappointment. Hur- 
riedly strapping up his dressing-bag and giving a 
few necessary directions to the lay brother who at- 
tended upon him, he threw a heavy rug across his arm 
and, without a word of farewell, stepped out into the 
early dawn and bent his steps toward the station. 
And as he walked, his thought left the past year and 
dwelt upon the period of time which had immediately 
preceded his advent to St. Anslem’s — a period during 
which the whole current of his life had changed. 

And the Father? We left him calmly writing, ap- 
parently regardless of the turbulent feelings which his 
decisive words of farewell had aroused in the younger 
man whom, truth to tell, he loved almost as a son. 

As Robert Saul left the room, the Father’s still 
face changed; he appeared to be listening intently. 
Did he hope that the man, whom he had loved and 
tutored for so long, would return and give him an 
opportunity to soften somewhat the harshness of those 
few words? Nay, the young man’s passionate, head- 
strong nature was too well known to him; and far 
other thoughts occupied his mind, for he was not 
living in the present at all. 

Suddenly, his face grew old and grey. The beauti- 
ful features lost something of their classic lines, and 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


55 


the whole man broke and swayed, like some sapling 
at the mercy of a storm. With a weary cry, he flung 
himself across the table and gripped its sides with all 
the strength which his thin white hands contained. 
The outline of his spare form showed hard beneath 
the cassock which he wore, as it shook with the rend- 
ing thought within him. Just now, for him, the room 
was filled with cruel echoes from the past. He looked 
back twenty years and saw a maiden fair and pure. 
The autumn glory of crimson and of gold threw glow- 
ing colour, with lavish brush, across the background 
of the picture. Rich browns and burnished yellows 
bathed her feet, as she stood within the centre of the 
coppice, and the setting sun washed her robes with 
rosy light and deepened the flush of love upon her 
brow. The bright chestnut of her hair rivalled the 
Indian summer tints that nature painted upon the 
autumn leaves, and the dark fire of her eyes told 
plainly of a pride scarce humbled by the greatness of 
her love. 

As though she spoke them now, he heard her words 
of absolute surrender. 

“ I can fight no longer, Philip, I am yours. See 
to it that you keep my honour bright ; for the Courcys 
ever mate with the highest in the land, and I had 
thought to do likewise. But ... I can fight no 
more.” 

Unable longer to bear these voices from the past, 
the Father rose and walked with weary gait towards 
the door. Locking it, he glanced across the room 
and saw a sight which rushed him headlong back 
among his restless dead. 

Through the uncurtained window he beheld a snow- 


56 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


bound land, and thought caught and chained him to 
the memory of a cold white face and haughty brow. 
From the picture in his mind all light and warmth 
had fled; for the winter’s snows rested upon the cop- 
pice now, and the trees stood stark and grim, as 
though defiant of the fate which stripped them of 
their summer’s joy and left them all unclad before the 
winter’s icy blast. 

Grand in the majesty of her righteous wrath, the 
maiden stood above him, one slender foot pressed 
upon a gnarled tree root, the other crushed the ivy 
that clung around its base. Drawn to her full height, 
thus looking taller than her wont, she spurned his 
wretched arguments aside. 

“ I do not understand,” she coldly said, “ a religion 
built upon the ashes of a woman’s heart! I know 
naught of any zeal, fed witk the wreckage of a woman’s 
life.” With proud utterance she checked the protesta- 
tions he had ready. “Nay!” — and the winter sun- 
shine was not colder than her smile — “ Nay! spare me 
more I pray; the choice has been your own, not mine, 
from first to last. I have loved you even better than 
my ancient name, enough to w r ed you, all unknown 
though you be. But now ” — again that fleeting wintry 
gleam shot from her eyes, but left her lips unmoved — 
“ I love my honour best of all.” 

With head held high and arm out-thrown, she pointed 
him upon his way. 

“ Leave me,” she commanded, “ go to your priestly 
cell and learn there, that to love the God you have 
not seen you first must lose yourself and learn to love 
your brother more.” 

Then, suddenly, her head drooped low upon her 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


57 


breast ; with fingers interlaced and palms down-pressed 
she voiced the height and the depth of her bitterest 
woe. So low she spoke, her tones scarce rose above 
a quivering whisper of deep pain, yet each vibration 
reached his heart and pierced him through and through. 
“ All might have been forgiven, Philip, save the lie. 
But your cloth proclaimed the sacred touch of the 
episcopalian hand, and I deemed you one of God’s 
elect, as far above a subterfuge as is Truth above the 
price of rubies. Now, I am bereft of all, for I know 
not what is Truth , nor where ! ” 

Now baffled by the teeming thought which would 
not let him be, the tortured man sank down upon his 
knees and pressed his fingers across his eyes; but he 
could not thus shut out the pain which was always his. 

And he asked himself ; 46 Who was he to rebuke 
another for choosing the life which he himself desired, 
even yet ! ” 

As though it were yesterday he remembered that, 
twenty years before, a young man’s passion had swept 
him off his feet and that, already vowed to the life 
of a celibate, he had allowed himself to be conquered 
by the beauty and grace of a spotless nature. She 
had known nothing of his consecrated life and, deem- 
ing him to be as free as she herself stood before God 
and man, she had pledged her life to his. Once the 
surrender had been made, she had unveiled before him 
the full joy of her love: the more bitter her cup of 
shame, when he, affrighted at that which he had done, 
laid bare his lie before her, ere, by sheer strength of 
will, he turned him about and sought the refuge of 
his cell. 

From that day unto this, he had fought the great 


58 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


fight out upon those same lines. Always had desire 
been defeated in the end; always had his magnificent 
will conquered the cravings of a naturally passionate 
nature. To-day, however, the Father realised that the 
old Adam had never been annihilated, but only tem- 
porarily suppressed each time. Had his long life 
of self-denial then been in vain? Was that lie, for 
which his young manhood was in the main responsible, 
ever to haunt him thus? Nay! his will should exercise 
the devil as before, and again he would rise above the 
natural man. 

Aye, again, and once again, mayhap! But not for 
always, man of clay. That will of iron! ’Tis but 
a thing of naught — a carnal weapon of the human 
mind. And “ the carnal mind is enmity against God.” 
Look upwards, child of God! Incline thine ear, bend 
low thine heart, stretch high both hands and firmly 
'grasping, ever wielding the two-edged sword of the 
Spirit, more than victor thou shalt be ! 

“ For to be carnally minded is death; but to be 
spiritually minded is life and peace.” For “God is 
Spirit,”* and “ the hour cometh, and now is, when 
the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit 
and in truth: for the Father seeketh such to worship 
Him.” 

* “ Revised Version,” marginal note. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN 


Away the stone is rolled: 

Wake, beloved, wake! 

Sweet, thou’rt in the fold: 

Wake, beloved, wake! 

Feel the arms of Love beneath thee: 

Wake, beloved, wake! 

See the smile of Love to greet thee: 

Wake, beloved, wake! 

Sweet, the dawn is here: 

Work, beloved, work! 

Keep thy watch in trustful prayer: 

Work, beloved, work! 

Sweet, the day grows bright: 

Love, beloved, love! 

Watch, and pray and fight: 

Love, beloved, love! 

Just before the holidays and during the same cold 
winter as that which saw Robert Saul bid his lonely 
farewell to St. Anselm, several small boys lay sleep- 
ing in one of the dormitories of a large preparatory 
school. All England lay beneath that deep darkness 
which often heralds the dawn, save where, in the open 
country, the snow-clad fields lent a faint light to the 
scene. The bright moon had gone to rest and the 
long narrow room, in which a dozen beds were ranged 
side by side, was entirely dark. 

59 


60 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


A week ago the Rev. Robert Saul had brought his 
nephew, Malcolm Stuart, a little Anglo-Indiali, to 
this school, and had left him there the more confi- 
dently when he found, among the older boys, the 
brother of an old college friend of his own. Robby 
Campbell was, it appeared, the youngest of a large 
family, while Robert Saul’s old friend, James, was the 
eldest. The thoughtful Scotchman and the brilliant 
young Scholar of New College had become intimate 
at Oxford, but the development of their respective 
views upon religious matters had, of late, built up a 
wall of reserve between them which neither attempted 
to break down. Nevertheless, Robert Saul was relieved 
to think that Robby Campbell, who, he observed, was 
a sufficiently self-contained little lad, would shepherd 
his nephew during his first term at a boarding school. 
For Malcolm was strange alike to England and to 
school life, and was but a bit of a child to fight all his 
own battles unaided. 

At this early hour the whole house was asleep when 
a boy’s voice was raised in fear, summoning the aid of 
a friendly hand. 

“ Robby, quick ! I want you ! ” 

The childish treble shot through the darkness of 
the wintry dawn and roused to conscious responsibility 
the sleeping boy, whose proud privilege it was to be 
Captain of the dormitory. 

“What’s the matter, Malcolm?” 

“ I want you, Robby, I — I’m frightened.” 

The note now struck was full of pain, and the sound 
wavered and fell as the boy’s eyes grew big with fear. 

The floor felt hard and cold against the Captain’s 
little bare feet, and oh! his bed was nice and warm! 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


61 


but Malcolm was “ such a little kid,” and such a very 
new boy, and — well! it wasn’t so long ago that the 
Captain had been a new boy himself! And so, blink- 
ing sleepy eyes, and stumbling against little white 
beds — what a lot of them there seemed to be! — the 
boy reached the bedside where sat the demon, Fear. 

The Captain didn’t say much; he was so sleepy and 
it was just cold! but he put two hard arms around the 
baby neck — for Malcolm was scarcely more — and 
patted the short-cropped head with his schoolboy hand. 

Presently the Captain forgot the cold, and he wasn’t 
sleepy any more, for poor little Malcolm was blub- 
bing out something so dreadful — something about “ no 
one to love him — only Uncle Robert, his guardian, 
who gave him toys — lots — but didn’t love him at all, 
and was often very stern ; and never kissed him like — 
like — mother did, before — she — went to India.” 

At that the Captain considered. Boys never kissed, 
of course; but it must be awful to have no mother’s 
kisses in the holidays; yet, he thought . . . well! 

he just didn’t think any more about it, but he rubbed 
a plump cheek up and down and all around the little 
head, and put a shy kiss somewhere on Malcolm’s baby 
face. Day was at hand, but it was still almost dark, 
and he accidentally fetched up in the region of nose 
tip, but Malcolm was too forlorn to be critical, and 
love was too rare and nice a thing to be anything 
but greedy about. And so, presently, when the Cap- 
tain said that he must go back to bed, small man Mal- 
colm was no longer afraid, for his heart was warm and 
not hungry any more, and best of all the phantom 
“ Fear ” had fled. 

He didn’t call it bad names, of course, nor analyse 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


his sensations at all (no boy of six would do so), but 
he just curled up into a little drowsy heap and slept 
as sweet, untroubled childhood should. 

But the Captain lay awake. . . . And the lips 

were still and the eyes most grave, as the child gazed 
steadfastly towards the faint gold light of the coming 
day, and those angels, which always behold God’s face, 
were with him, as the boy’s young heart gave thanks, 
and knew that “ God is Love.” 


CHAPTER VII 


THE WORLD, THE FLESH AND EVIL 

Truth crushed to earth shall rise again: 

The eternal years of God are hers; 

But error, wounded, writhes with pain, 

And dies among her worshippers. 

— William Cullen Bryant. 

Mr. Saul was alone during the whole of his journey 
to London, and he was very glad to be thus undis- 
turbed, for he was still dwelling upon the past. It 
was nearly four years ago, he remembered, that the 
social world of England had rung with the names of 
Lady Cecil Gwynne and the Prince Leo Berne; and 
now Robert Saul’s mind was occupied in reviewing 
their wedding day, upon which occasion he had seen 
the Lady Cecil Gwynne for the first time in his life. 
The true story of that strange wedding has never yet 
been told; it is as follows. 

Upon a hot June day in the height of the London 
season, much of the smart world had already assem- 
bled in a great London church, when Lady Margaret 
Courcy hastily entered a house in Grosvenor Square. 
Waving aside the servant, who came forward to know 
her wish, she passed him and herself opened a door 
upon the left of the hall. 

“ Cousin Margaret ! ” The Earl of Brecon was 
astonished, and for once he showed what he felt. He 
63 


64 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


was, besides, a little discomfited, and this also was 
made evident by his slightly ruffled demeanour. 

“ Brecon, you cannot know what you are doing ! 
You cannot really mean to marry that child to Leo 
Berne ! ” 

The Earl glanced indifferently at a beautiful white 
marble clock which stood upon the mantelpiece. He 
had quite regained his self-possession, but was inwardly 
very angry with himself for having lost it, even for 
a moment. He realised that he must be in a nervous 
mood, and sought to control all outward signs of his 
disquiet. Thus it was that his manner, always cold, 
became deliberately frigid in its hauteur. 

“ The others have already reached the church, and 
we start in five minutes,” was his sole answer to Lady 
Margaret’s protest. 

His cousin rose impatiently from the chair into which 
she had thrown herself but one minute before. 

“ Brecon,” she pleaded passionately, “ think before 
it is too late. Cecil is scarcely seventeen, while Prince 
Leo’s grandchild is over twenty ! Oh ! I know all that 
you would say! I know that he is hugely rich and of 
princely birth, but, Brecon — you, you do not know 
what his life has been! For years you have but rarely 
emerged from your library. What do you know of the 
world into which you would thus thoughtlessly plunge 
your sister? Think of her education under your aunt’s 
wing! She is but a baby still. Think of that man’s 
life ! or at any rate believe me when I tell you that he 
is no fit mate for any girl.” 

“ This certainly is no fit time to discuss the matter, 
my dear cousin; you should have come to me weeks 
ago.” The Earl spoke softly and with great com- 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


65 


posure, and as he spoke he pressed the bell behind him. 
44 Inform her ladyship’s maid,” he said to the ser- 
vant who answered his summons, 44 that the carriage 
is waiting.” 

Lady Margaret Courcy stood bewildered by the 
emergency of the moment. Had she raced her way 
across an ocean only to be too late! One more thing 
she could and would try; she would see Cecil herself. 

Without another word to her cousin, she used the 
right which her close kinship, coupled with long cus- 
tom, gave her and sought the girl in her own room. 

44 Cousin Margaret ! ” 

The words which greeted her as she opened the bed- 
room door were precisely the same as those which she 
had heard upon entering the drawing-room, and again 
they held a note of astonishment within their tone : but, 
this time, they told of much besides. 

Lady Margaret had intended to say many things, 
but now she found herself struck speechless. The tide 
of her passionate displeasure was all frozen by the 
sight of her young cousin in her bridal gown, for sud- 
denly she realised fully that she was indeed too late ! 

Lady Cecil Gwynne dismissed her maid with a word 
and then turned and held the elder woman with both 
hands. 

“ Cousin Margaret,” she whispered ; “ do you know 
that picture? ” 

Margaret Courcy turned the child’s face to the light ; 
but the eyes were calm, though ringed about the lids 
with shades of faintest purple. 

44 My dear,” she answered softly, 44 what picture do 
you mean ? ” 

The girl pressed her head against her cousin’s shoul- 


66 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


der, as I have seen a baby push its way about its 
mother’s breast. Then slowly she lifted it and threw it 
back, clinging the while with nervous fingers to the 
strong touch of the elder woman’s hands. 

44 It is painted by Brickdale,” she muttered, 44 I saw 
it three days ago, and ever since it has haunted me 
by day and night. It shows a girl — like me, you 
know ” (and she glanced slowly down upon her wed- 
ding dress), 44 and — by her side — her bridegroom: and 
oh ! ” she cried, 44 what does it mean ? Underneath these 
words are written, 4 Thou fool ! this night thy soul 
shall be required of thee.’ ” 

The girl’s low mutter had changed into a feeble 
wail, and she trembled now in every limb. 

Before Lady Margaret Courcy could say one word 
of comfort, there came a sharp rap upon the door, and 
the Earl’s voice was heard, courteous as ever, but per- 
emptory in its tone. 

44 Cecil, we must start at onc$.” 

The Lady Cecil Gwynne flung one wild look about 
her, but her room spoke loudly of social tyranny and 
of that great whitened sepulchre which men call 44 the 
world,” before the door of which there stood, she 
knew, a stone too heavy for her to roll away. There 
upon the wall hung a picture of that Royal Duchess 
who had chosen for her child a husband, while that 
child was yet a child. Nor had she paused to ask 
whether holy inspiration would be present while they 
wed, as upon that day when man and woman stood 
together long ago in Galilee, and the Christ turned 
water into wine. Within that desk there lay, she knew, 
a hundred letters and more, each one glossing over 
with soft words a thing which never should have been — 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 67 

the betrothal of one who knew not , to one who knew 
that which never should be known; the betrothal of 
one who had not eaten of the poisoned fruit, to one 
who had partaken of the knowledge of good and evil 
so freely, that now he knew not which was good nor 
which was evil. For to eat of this tree, the head must 
be buried in the mist, and the vision blinded by the 
thoughts of earth. Above the mist — in the sunlight 
of Truth — there is no such tree; for evil cannot be 
where all is Good. And in the Light of reality there 
grows only “ the tree of Life ” in the midst of the 
garden — that tree, the leaves of which are “ for the 
healing of the nations.” 

Now, as the girl’s baffled glance sought her cousin’s 
face for aid, the Earl knocked once more. Helpless, 
she turned and, opening the door, led the way down- 
stairs. She stepped instantly into the waiting car- 
riage and knew that the Earl seated himself beside her, 
but she neither raised her eyes nor noticed him at all. 
Proudly she held herself aloof and gave no token of 
his presence there. 

Left alone in the deserted room, Lady Margaret 
Courcy dropped suddenly upon her knees. 

“ Dear God,” she cried, 44 stop this foul thing, I 
pray! ... For such a child, ’tis blackest shame to 
wed with Leo Berne ! ” 

The church was lavishly decorated; indeed the air 
was overweighted by the scent of the tall lilies, which 
lined the chancel steps and fronted the choir stalls. 
They looked a little hard and cold against their back- 
ground of green fern, standing stiffly just where the 
hired hand had placed them. No woman’s loving eye 


68 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


had criticised the whole, else here and there a softer 
touch would now have been revealed. 

The bridgegroom waited with what grace he could 
beside the topmost pew. But in his heart he cursed 
the ways of his tyrant world, which make a public 
show of every man and maid upon their wedding day. 
Had he been less worn, he could have carried himself 
with a braver face, but there comes a time to such men 
as Leo Berne, when even they themselves must realise 
that no art can restore aught of that which they have 
squandered into the lap of sensuality and shame. 

“ Would she never come? ” 

By the great doors there waited a little lad and a 
little lass. With much-frilled frock and quaint head- 
gear the little lady held her own ; the worldly product 
of a worldly world, she stood there all too self-possessed. 
While the wee laddie, fresh from his Highland home, 
with strong brown limbs uncovered at the knee, held 
himself with a freer grace, born of the wildness of the 
merry moorland breeze and the breadth of the northern 
skies. And his sunny smile woke in many a weary heart 
sweet memories of golden gorse and heather bells. 

“ Robby ! ” — the little Lady Isobel spoke softly, but 
with intonation cold and proud — “ See ! here comes the 
bride! you must hold her train up there — just where 
the orange flowers rest upon the lace.” 

As the soft rustle of silvered satin met the ear, pro- 
claiming the advent of the bride, every head turned as 
far as etiquette permitted, and more than one heart 
grew sick, more than one manly brow flushed hot with 
wrath, as the fair, pure maid passed up the aisle. 

Many noted that the bride’s young face was white 
and stern withal for one of tender years, and her car- 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


69 


riage more rigid than it should have been. With 
stately step and coldest mien she passed between the 
expectant throng. Her little hand scarce touched her 
brother’s arm, and she leant upon him not at all. Too 
soon the organ’s dying breath was hushed, and the 
priest’s words were heard with their note of solemn 
warning — seldom heeded by those who, having ears, yet 
do not hear. “ Therefore,” he read, “ if any man can 
show any just cause why they may not lawfully be 
joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter 
forever hold his peace.” 

One woman there was in that great assembly, who 
almost raised her voice in protest. But what had she 
to say, that priest or layman could take legal note of? 
Perforce she must stand by and hold her peace, while 
the priest charged man and maid that, as they both 
should answer at the judgment day, when the secrets 
of all hearts shall be revealed, if either knew any im- 
pediment why they might not couple in the sight of 
God, they should now confess it. 

Then a fresh voice struck upon each waiting ear, as 
a second priest came forward and asked the man before 
him, if he would keep himself for her alone, as long as 
they both should live? And the old man’s voice, worn 
out before its time, made glib reply, “ I will.” 

But ere the priest could turn him to the maid and 
ask the self-same question of her youth, a strange 
thing came about, and all that congregation stood 
aghast, bewildered by the action of a frightened child. 

It happened in a moment, as such things must, or 
not at all. Following the priest’s grave glance as it 
rested upon the man beside her, Lady Cecil Gwynne 
had met her bridegroom’s eye. Though dim with age, 


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THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


it yet held the light of an unholy desire, which chilled 
her very heart and almost stopped its beat. As in a 
lightning flash she saw the chasm over which she hung, 
though even then she realised only something of its 
depth. 

With rapid movement, she swung from east to west, 
and fled with swift and purposeful steps straight down 
the aisle. Her face was whiter than before, and quiv- 
ered in its pain, but the terror in her eyes was worst of 
all to see. Still speeding her footsteps on the while, 
nor looking to the right or left, “ Margaret,” she whis- 
pered, through tense lips, “ Margaret Courcy, come to 
me!” 

It was the hour of her greatest need, and Love arose 
and met her in the way, sending the comfort of a 
woman’s presence to her side. And thus, her trembling 
hand warm-wrapped within another’s strong and tender 
clasp, she passed without the door. 

The swiftness of her flight had left the Earl, her 
brother, thunderstruck, till suddenly black rage pos- 
sessed him and, with face aflame, he strode along the 
aisle; nor paused until his foot pressed hard upon his 
carriage step. 

“ Her Ladyship,” the footman told him, “ has been 
taken ill, and the Lady Margaret Courcy has driven 
home with her.” 

Within the church the old man turned him to the 
wall, and wept. No sorrow was in his heart, for he 
had only loved her youth ! Nor was he bereft of aught ; 
with title and with lands he could buy him another 
bride as young and fair. But men and women laughed 
at him, and he had rather that he died. Though 
every face was grave, though every mouth was stern, 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


71 


he saw the laughter tremble in each eye ; and so — he 
turned him to the wall and wept, and hated all the 
world. 

Just as I have told you now, this thing happened, 
and as Robert Saul’s train sped Londonward upon the 
morning of his departure from St. Anselm’s he men- 
tally reviewed that weird marriage scene, for he it was 
who, turning to the maid to receive her marriage vows, 
had suddenly seen written upon her terror-stricken face 
the purpose which, an instant later, struck consterna- 
tion into the heart of each man and woman in that 
church. 

And, now, he had irrevocably dissolved his ties at 
St. Anselm’s, in order that he might ask that maid to 
become his wife. 




Part II 

MORTALS WEAVING IN THE DARK 



CHAPTER VIII 


A MAN AND A WOMAN 

Sensations sweet 

Felt in the blood and felt along the heart. 

— Wordsworth. 

Arriving in London, Mr. Saul drove to his hotel and 
ordered breakfast. He went straight to his room, and 
emerged an hour later apparently much refreshed. The 
sharp challenge of ice-cold water had sent the blood 
tingling through his veins and had, for the moment, 
dashed aside the marks of his sleepless night. 

But he was nervous and restless still, for the issue 
of the day meant much to him. He scarcely tasted the 
fried sole upon his plate. Though he had not broken 
his fast before leaving St. Anselm’s, he could not eat 
the dainty meal before him. He was a man quite un- 
accustomed to be thus controlled by circumstance, and 
half unconsciously he resented this new-born helpless- 
ness. It was a small matter, however, and would pass, 
of course ; certainly it was not worth a second thought, 
while the purpose of his life still lay before him. 

Returning to his own room, Mr. Saul passed his 
silk handkerchief round his hat, and brushed, for the 
third time that morning, his already spotless coat. 
He was at all times a man of particular neatness, 
though of personal vanity he possessed scarcely a par- 
ticle. To-day, however, for the very first time in his 
life, he asked himself whether there was that about him 

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THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


which women deem desirable? He saw nothing to at- 
tract in the strong, rather harsh lines of his face ; and 
indeed, the straight beauty of his features was some- 
what marred by certain indications of obstinacy, de- 
noted chiefly by the overweight of the chin. The head 
was magnificent but for this defect, though the more 
critical of his acquaintances would have said that the 
large eyes were too gloomy and lent darkness rather 
than light to the clever face. His form was erect, but 
his carriage spoke plainly of a certain habit of thought 
which made him attempt always to rule, when at times 
his object would have been more harmoniously achieved 
could he have called sweet patience to his aid. But 
standing high above his fellows in point of intellect 
and being possessed of a rare strength of character, he 
often carried all before him, and his faults were usually 
completely lost sight of. He was, however, a man who 
won his way far more often by means of his unique 
personality and a certain invincible determination, than 
by the love he inspired. Indeed, there were few who 
loved Robert Saul, though there were many who asked 
nothing better than to follow where he should lead. It 
had always been so. At school and at college he had 
inspired a deep admiration among both those who knew 
him slightly and among his very few intimate ac- 
quaintances, but he had always been a man of rare 
friendships and of a solitary habit of life. Thus it was 
that a great heart-hunger had grown with his growth 
and would now no longer be denied; hence his real 
suffering that morning when the Father had so curtly 
dismissed him from St. Anselm, cutting him to the 
quick by giving the lie to the affection which Robert 
Saul had believed existed between them. 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


77 


As he walked towards Grosvenor Square, he asked 
himself whether he had just made the great mistake 
of his life ! He reflected that the maid of seventeen 
had, with passing years, grown into a womanhood 
which, by reason of an unusual reserve, betrayed but 
little of itself and was almost a hidden book to him. 
He realised, however, that Lady Cecil Gwynne had 
allowed him more than once to know something of 
her deeper nature. Sometimes he fancied that a sort 
of gratitude had stirred her to a greater freedom, when 
alone with him, than ever she permitted to another. 
Once, though only once, she had referred to their first 
strange meeting, upon what should have been her wed- 
ding day. 

“ My brother,” she had told him, “ is a man so 
studious and so unready to believe the worst of any- 
one, that I easily understand his ignorance of Prince 
Leo’s character. Many have misunderstood the line 
he took, and at the time judged his action harshly. I 
myself thought that he acted selfishly ; later, I realised 
that, to a man of his precise and quiet habits, the ad- 
vent of a sister needing his guidance through the 
maze of an indefinite number of seasons seemed an 
overwhelming inconvenience. Our mother died when 
he was only sixteen, and he, ever engrossed in his 
books, took no note of the twentieth century girl, who 
has been born with independence in her blood. Thus 
Prince Leo’s offer for my hand, made as it was while I 
was yet abroad, appeared to him to come as a means 
of relief from a tiresome position. It was incompre- 
hensible to him that I should wish to oppose such an 
alliance, for he regarded it, save for the one unimpor- 
tant detail of the disparity in age, as one that was in 


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THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


every way desirable.” And then she had added, with 
a sudden shyness, “ Mr. Saul, I should like, this once, 
to thank you for your help upon that day. It was 
something in your grave look which finally awoke me 
to a knowledge of the unhallowed life before me, should 
I marry where I could never love. It was something 
in your face which supported my desperate resolve to 
stop the performance of that which, quite suddenly, I 
clearly saw to be a sacrilegious ceremony.” 

Musing upon the past, Mr. Saul reached Lord 
Brecon’s house, and was recalled to the present by 
hearing a motor slacken speed behind him. He turned 
abruptly round and, recognising Lady Cecil Gwynne, 
hastened towards the car, from which she was just 
alighting. 

Then he behaved stupidly, a thing he rarely did: 
he was absurdly embarrassed. He had pictured their 
meeting many times during the last twelve hours, but 
now that it came unexpectedly upon him, he remem- 
bered only that he had not seen the woman he loved 
for a year, and that it was good to be with her again. 
For the moment, he completely forgot his surroundings 
— forgot the well-trained silent men-servants, one of 
whom stood behind his mistress, while another held open 
the hall door. A slight gravity passed, as a shadow, 
over the brightness of Cecil Gwynne’s face, and Mr. 
Saul became aware that he was holding her hand 
longer than was permissible. Hurriedly he stood aside, 
flushing hotly ; angry with himself, yet helpless, for to 
apologise was impossible. 

“ My brother,” Lady Cecil said, “ hopes that you 
will forgive him if he is a little late. I got your note 
by the second post this morning, just as he was start- 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


79 


ing for the city, but he expects to be back, at any rate, 
soon after lunch. There is a knotty point,” and Cecil 
Gwynne smiled, “ in Sanskrit which he thinks that you 
can solve. He is quite looking forward to a long and 
learned discussion with you upon the subject; he be- 
comes more of a bibliomaniac every day.” 

Chatting thus easily, his hostess led the way into 
the library, and following her, Mr. Saul replied that 
his Sanskrit was rusty, but that he would do his best. 

Lady Cecil Gwynne’s perfect self-possession at once 
put him at his ease, and he became immediately the 
well-bred man of the world. 

During lunch they found, as such people would, all 
that was necessary to say, and sustained a bright con- 
versation about men and matters of interest. 

Mr. Saul knew that his hostess was an unusually 
well-educated woman, for, after the esclandre of a few 
years ago, she had completely given herself up to a 
life of quiet study and had only lately taken her place 
in society by her brother’s side. 

One gift the brother and sister possessed in com- 
mon; both were musical to a remarkable degree and 
both had devoted much time and expense to perfecting 
their talents. Indeed, music had been the bond which 
had first drawn Mr. Saul into their circle. He had not 
only a passionate love for it, but was the possessor of 
a beautiful voice. When he sang, even the hypercritical 
were satisfied, for he was a man of too fastidious a 
taste to be content to do anything indifferently well. 
His clear sweet tenor would never have been heard, even 
by an average audience, had not circumstances enabled 
him to cultivate his gift to a pitch of rare perfection. 

Now, he and his hostess talked of music and litera- 


80 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


ture, and Lady Cecil was able to tell him of much that 
he had missed during his year of voluntary exile from 
the world. But it was a relief to them when lunch was 
over, though no onlooker could have guessed that both 
his mind and hers had been busy during the whole re- 
past with purely personal matters, the while that they 
had kept the ball of conversation rolling so gaily. 

Rising, Lady Cecil led the way through the large 
folding doors into the library. This was a delightful 
room, and seemed to catch and hold all the brightness 
that the winter’s day gave forth. Mr. Saul knew his 
hostess’ sun-loving nature, and that the rooms she oc- 
cupied should be full of light and colour seemed nat- 
ural to him. For a little while, he did not try to find 
much to say. He was content simply to be there ; and, 
indeed, he now wondered what fictitious power could 
ever have drawn him to turn from this life of joy and 
gladness towards the sombre existence which he had 
voluntarily endured for a whole year past. 

And Lady Cecil Gwynne wondered too — wondered 
why Robert Saul had thus suddenly rushed back into 
her life without explanation, even as he had left it ! 
His note had told her nothing. And yet it seemed to 
her that he would not have written at all — would not 
now be there — unless his doubts and fears were finally 
at rest. That he loved her she knew perfectly ; for she 
had clearly seen his struggle when, a year before, he 
had chosen that which he then believed to be the better 
part. At the time she had been aware that one word, 
one look even, would have kept him by her side — her 
declared and affianced lover. But it had never crossed 
her mind to say that word or give the smallest sign. 
Her nature was intensely proud and had been wounded 


81 


THE SEAM LESS ROBE 

to the core when, at the age of seventeen, she had stood 
before her world, the involuntary heroine of a social 
fiasco. She knew — indeed she had known for a long 
time — that unless she married Robert Saul, she would 
remain unmarried always. But not even to her one most 
loved and intimate friend, Lady Margaret Courcy, 
would she have breathed the fact of Mr. Saul’s devotion 
to her, until he should completely capitulate to its 
power and ask her to be his wife. She had believed him 
to be mistaken when he left her side, but she was wise 
beyond her years, and had then told herself that no 
emotional religion of that kind could hold such a man 
for long. She had felt, however, that it was best for 
him to test its strength, as thus he would most surely 
discover its weakness. Now , he had either come to tell 
her that she had been right, or — he had come to bid 
her a final farewell. 

Putting his coffee cup upon an inlaid stool beside 
him, Mr. Saul watched the girl for some moments as 
she knelt by the fire idly beating the burning logs into 
a brighter blaze. He noted the richness of her white 
cloth dress, and the beauty of the single diamond which 
caught together the lace upon her bosom, leaving her 
firm white throat uncovered. 

He pressed his foot upon the thick carpet which 
almost covered the polished boards, and as he did so 
shifted his chair a little in order that he might watch 
her the more comfortably. His slight movement turned 
a revolving bookcase which stood beside him and a feast 
of literature faced him — books for the most part plainly 
bound, though here and there a richer cover caught his 
eye. Many were old friends, but several were unfamiliar 
to him — published during the last year, no doubt. 


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THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


He withdrew one of the latter and passed his finger 
absently over the white and gold of the thick calf. 
Idly turning a few of the gilt-edged leaves and glanc- 
ing at the contents, he moved and stirred some hot-house 
flowers which stood in a vase upon the bookcase. The 
subtle sweetness of their scent reached him, and he 
leant back in his chair again. It was strange how the 
man dawdled, deliberately postponing the finale for 
which he longed. But, never for an instant wavering 
in his purpose, Robert Saul feasted, as the epicure 
feasts, whose greed is the very refinement of desire. 

Lady Cecil was not looking at him, and he watched 
her steadily, saying to himself that it was good to be 
back again in this world of warmth and beauty. For 
it was his world — the one into which he had been born, 
and in which he had been bred. The comfort now sur- 
rounding him seemed, as it were, to satisfy that part 
of his nature which he had tried so hard to starve of 
late. Rather grimly, he realised that his year of absti- 
nence at St. Anselm’s had, in this respect, been wasted 
time ; for now he felt that he was more at home in this 
palace of delight than ever he had been under that al- 
most monastic regime. 

Suddenly he rose; his action was not only unpre- 
meditated; it was involuntary. Indeed, he was un- 
aware of his own movements until he found himself 
standing beside Lady Cecil Gwynne. He had never 
been quite so near to her before. The edge of his 
frock coat almost brushed against her shoulder as he, 
still not guiding his actions by conscious thought, put 
out his right hand and closed it upon the rounded edge 
of the mantelshelf. Pressing upon it, he stood up- 
right — a little stiffly — as though afraid of the power 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


83 


which possessed him. Half bewildered by the force of 
this strong thing which almost mastered him, he tried 
to speak, but could not. The girl’s face slowly flushed 
but she did not move. She could not. Both realized 
that this was, for each, a supreme moment, and the 
silence became charged with intense emotion. 

At last Robert Saul spoke, not in his usual voice at 
all, but softly, with a curious distinctness. 

44 I want,” he said, 44 to speak to you.” 

Bending over the kneeling girl, he took her hands 
in his and slowly lifted her until she stood beside him. 

44 Little Lady Cecil,” he whispered, 44 you know, of 
course, why I have come ! It is ” — and now he laughed 
a little, and his whole face brightened with the thought 
behind it — 44 it is — because I cannot help it.” 

Lady Cecil looked down upon her hands still tightly 
held within the man’s firm clasp, but seemingly she 
could find no word to say. 

It was strange to her to hear this man speak so 
humbly. His very assumption of helplessness had for 
her a charm. She instinctively felt that such a posi- 
tion was new to him, and that for one who knew his own 
power as did Robert Saul, the confession which he had 
just made implied a surrender as rare as it was com- 
plete. 

Presently Mr. Saul spoke again. 44 Cecil,” he asked 
gravely, 44 what day will you marry me? ” 

At that the girl drew back. But now she found that 
she too must laugh a little. For what had she here? 
Gentleness truly, but some assurance also, it would 
seem ! 

44 What day,” she said, 44 will I marry a man who 
has not even asked me for my hand? Why, do you 


84 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


know, . . . the question seems to me to be a little 

premature, and ” . . . But before she could say 

more, she found herself closely folded within masterful 
arms. Tenderly, but with a touch that would no longer 
be denied, Robert Saul held her to him; and now his 
face was grave and whiter than it was wont to be and, 
when next he spoke, his beautiful voice was very soft. 

“ My dear,” he said, “ I doubt not that I am a 
clumsy wooer, but, does it matter, little one? You 
know that we have always loved each other; does any- 
thing matter, except that soon you will be altogether 
mine? ” 

Then, as for the first time in her life, a man’s lips 
pressed upon her own and thus woke to a tremulous 
sense of life that which she did not know her nature 
held within itself, Lady Cecil thanked God that years 
before the courage had been hers to turn away from 
the unhallowed embrace which had then awaited her 
upon the threshold of her early womanhood. Even 
now, half dismayed at the strength of this new joy, 
which yet carried in its train a sense of weakness, she 
withdrew herself from the arms that sought to hold 
her closer. 

Robert Saul, knowing her pride and understanding 
better than did the girl herself the flush upon her 
cheek and the deepening of the shadow in her eyes, 
let her go. With a patience which surprised himself 
he asked no more of the present. Growing strangely 
wise by reason of the love he bore her, he told himself 
that to ask more now would be to risk the full ripening 
of that rich harvest which lay out-stretched in golden 
thought before him; and as he looked at the sweet face 
so near to him, he knew that he loved her the better for 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


85 


her proud reserve. Then, for the space of one heart- 
beat he held his breath as he mentally drank in a fore- 
taste of their future life together — a life filled to the 
full with that living love which, he told himself, can 
only come to those who give, each to the other, the 
first-fruits of their man-and-womanhood. 

For an hour and more they were undisturbed, and 
it seemed that there was not much to say. Both were 
content to rest awhile within the atmosphere of calm 
and quiet sympathy with which their mutual love sur- 
rounded them. 

That night all Robert Saul’s doubts were laid to 
rest, and the past year dropped out of his thought and 
was more completely forgotten than are the dead above 
whose head the living walk. For man can only love 
one thing supremely at the time, and for Robert Saul 
a wonderful new life had now opened up, and he loved 
it : moreover he knew that he loved it, as he never had 
loved that other life which now seemed to have no more 
reality than a dream belonging to the distant past. 


CHAPTER IX 


DAY DREAMS 

The outward symbols disappear 
From him whose inward sight is clear, 

‘And small must be the choice of days 
To him who fills them all with praise ! 

— Whittier. 

The months that followed the announcement of their 
engagement were the happiest that either Lady Cecil 
Gwynne or Mr. Saul had ever known. They told each 
other that they had never anticipated such joy ; and the 
watching world exclaimed aside, that it was strange 
indeed that two such suitable people should have de- 
cided to marry one another. Absolutely nothing oc- 
curred to mar the brightness of the early days of their 
courtship, during which the winter snows fled and 
nature donned her petticoats of green. 

The Earl of Brecon was unaffectedly glad at the 
prospect of being relieved of the care of his young 
sister, for he was thus quite free to spend long hours 
alone with his books. He was also genuinely pleased 
that she should have elected to marry a man so much 
after his own heart — not that he and Robert Saul had 
natures at all akin, but both men were educated above 
the common, and both were deeply religious. 

For years the Earl had been upon the point of join- 
ing the Church of Rome. But only Mr. Saul and one 
other — a priest whose influence had been closely inter- 
86 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


87 


woven with the young nobleman’s Oxford career — knew 
this. For Lord Brecon’s nature was so sensitive, and 
his religion was to him of such vital importance, that 
he at all times preferred to listen to the views of others 
upon this sacred subject, rather than to inform them of 
his own. 

He had not yet gone over to Rome, chiefly because 
the ceremonial which he found among the extreme 
High Churchmen of his time had, up to the present, 
seemed to satisfy the hunger within him. And yet he 
was not altogether content. While listening to the 
beautiful music of the choir or to some young 
chorister’s thrilling soprano, he thought himself to be' 
at rest; content he also seemed to feel, when returning 
from confessional. It was certainly an immense relief 
to cast the burden of his sins into the priestly ear and 
to start once more upon life’s journey free and unfet- 
tered by the past. But these times of comfortable 
irresponsibility were apt to be followed by periods of 
severe reaction which, in their turn, left the man sad 
and sore perplexed. But he never for a moment 
doubted that the path which he followed would in time 
lead him to the perfect day; and here it was that his 
views and those of Mr. Saul were identical. The 
latter’s passionate nature, however, made him more 
actively intolerant than Lord Brecon would ever be of 
every form of worship which departed from the ritual 
which he deemed essential to salvation. Thus, of the 
two men Robert Saul was certain to take things more 
hardly, should one he cared for hold views opposed to 
his own upon this most important matter. 

The Earl of Brecon held a recognised place among 
the Churchmen of the day, and this brought him into 


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THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


touch with those in authority in the Church of Eng- 
land, which, as an organisation, has its social and po- 
litical side, as well as its religious aspect; and it had 
been a great pleasure to him to use the not inconsid- 
erable interest which his position gave him, to secure 
for his prospective brother-in-law the charge of one of 
the most sought after parishes in London. 

The reputation which Mr. Saul now rapidly ac- 
quired as a great preacher was enhanced by his vigor- 
ous personality, and further by the charm of his 
beautifully modulated voice. The congregation at St. 
Peter’s was of precisely the right composition to en- 
joy his cultured sermons. His delivery was the per- 
fection of scholarly ability, and the large church was 
soon filled, Sunday after Sunday, with the most fas- 
tidious audience possible. Critical as his congrega- 
tion was, his sermons were described as an intellectual 
feast ; and the beautiful music, which Mr. Saul took 
care should be perfectly rendered, helped to draw an 
educated and fashionable audience from far and near. 
Churchmen predicted a great future for the young 
clergyman, who possessed the unusual combination of 
great gifts and a fearless energy. It was reported, and 
believed by many, that shortly after his induction Mr. 
Saul had been told that a certain ceremony, which 
he had inaugurated at St. Peter’s, must be dropped. 
He had, report declared, politely but firmly refused 
to abate one jot or one tittle of the ritual, which he 
considered a means of grace and necessary to all who 
would walk in the straight and narrow way ; and he had 
won his point. Whether by the indomitable courage 
of his mental attitude or by his undoubted charm of 
manner, it matters not — he remained Vicar of St. 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


89 


Peter’s and continued to devote himself, heart and 
soul, to the regeneration of the large West End 
parish. 

It seemed to Mr. Saul, that in winning such an one as 
Cecil for his wife, he had obtained the one thing need- 
ful to the rounding of his lot. A graceful hostess, 
gifted with a delicate tact, Lady Cecil would make an 
ideal wife for a clergyman already holding a conspicu- 
ous position in the Church and who was certain to rise 
to higher preferment. 

For the present Cecil Gwynne was content — as were 
most men and women who fell under Robert Saul’s 
magnetic influence — to follow, without comment or 
question, wherever he should point the way. The girl 
believed herself to be altogether at rest in his love. 
Her hitherto lonely life seemed intolerable when she 
compared it with the sunny days of the happy com- 
panionship that she now enjoyed in the society of 
her lover. Much of her shy reserve melted under the 
warmth of Robert’s tender care; and at times Cecil 
Gwynne seemed to him to be so altogether desirable, 
that it was with difficulty that he found patience to 
wait the passing of the early spring, for he fully 
realised that her nature held depths which he had not 
yet been permitted to sound, and he was eager to 
sound them. He understood, however, that not until 
they were man and wife would this beautiful flower 
unfold all its petals and display the full treasure that 
her heart contained. In his calm moments he loved 
her the better, in that she gave him always less than 
he desired, but at other times his passionate longing 
to be always beside her made the hours spent apart 
from her seem long and altogether dark. 


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THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


Of the two Lady Cecil was the more completely 
happy at this period. The present was full enough 
of joy for her. She had unbounded trust in the 
thoughtful care which seemed to anticipate her every 
wish, and her admiration for Robert Saul daily in- 
creased as she watched his busy life. She realised 
clearly that his courageous judgment and cultured 
thought were rapidly placing him in the first rank 
among the foremost men of his day; and that he 
stood upon the threshold of a great career. She would 
help him to make that career truly great! Her own 
high social standing naturally placed her far above 
any vulgar personal ambition, but she was neverthe- 
less very eager to see her lover rise to a position of 
eminence in the Church. Robert must be the best 
man of his day — the cleverest, the most learned, and 
the most good. 

Her ideal was high, and Robert Saul was much fur- 
ther from the manifestation thereof than she realised 
at that time. Later, she saw all things more clearly, 
and in those “ latter days 99 she looked back at this 
ideal and instantly dethroned it, bowing in mute obe- 
dience before that standard of infinite perfection raised 
on high by the meekest man on earth — a standard 
unto which none have yet attained, chiefly because all 
have deemed it impossible really to follow where he 
has led. . . . All ? nay ! One to whom a world’s 

gratitude is due, now points to that standard which 
still waves on high, unsullied throughout the centuries ; 
and pointing, she has reminded a suffering world that 
nearly two thousand years ago these emphatic words 
were uttered by him of whom we read, that his word 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


91 


shall never pass away until fulfilled ; “ Be ye there- 
fore perfect, even as your Father which is in Heaven 
is perfect ; ” and again, “ Verily, verily, I say unto 
you, he that believeth on me, the works that I do shall 
he do also ; and greater works than these shall he do ; 
because I go unto my Father.” 

But how many are there who really believe these 
words? How many are there who even attempt to 
prove their faith by their works? Some few there are 
who seek to do the Master’s work in the manner of his 
appointing. Some few there are who know that the 
Nazarene w T as the practical Way-shower and no mere 
idealist. And their number and their might increase 
daily in spite of Church and State — in spite of that 
merely numerical majority, which still looks askance 
at the healing Christ, who comes as of yore offering 
to humanity full salvation from sin, disease and death. 

Oh, hungry, yet blind of heart! Wilt thou not 
pause awhile and heed the pathos of that cry ; “ O 
Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! ” Wilt thou not seat thee for 
a silent moment at the feet of Jesus and learn of the 
Nazarene? But first, must thou bow thy proud head; 
first, must thou bend thy stiffened knee and smite 
upon thy haughty breast. Nay, more! — and harder 
still — thou must descend from thy high estate and 
cast aside thy broad phylacteries. Thus only canst 
thou lift thy heart to God and send forth the humble 
cry, “ Lord, that I may receive my sight.” Then 
shalt thou note the holy joy upon the elder Brother’s 
face; then shalt thou feel the healing love flow from 
his heart ; then shalt thou receive the Christly benedic- 


92 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


tion, “ Thy faith hath made thee whole ; Go in peace.” 
And thus shalt thou arise refreshed and go forth to 
do the Master’s work, more mighty in thy meekness 
than ever in thy state — “ not unclothed, but clothed 
upon ” — the joy of heaven within thine eyes, and the 
calm of God upon thy breast. 


CHAPTER X 


PARTIAL ECLIPSE 

God hath made man upright; but they have sought out 
many inventions. 

— Ecclesiastes. 

It was now early May, and their wedding-day was very 
near at hand. Lady Cecil Gwynne was in Scotland 
and wished to be quietly married from her old northern 
home ; for she not unnaturally shrank from the pub- 
licity of a large social function. Mr. Saul was content 
either way, so long as he might speedily claim her 
altogether for his own. He had been surprised to find 
of late that it was in him to be jealous. Indeed, his 
masterful nature had rebelled many times of late 
when, standing by, he had watched his fiancee resting 
upon the arm of some one or other of the smart men 
of her circle, while floating through the mazes of a 
waltz. Mr. Saul had never danced, and would not 
have considered it possible for a man of his calling to 
do so with dignity. He told himself that, once Cecil 
was his wife, she must do as he wished in all such 
matters. He disliked to see married women dancing 
at any time, and from his point of view such a thing 
was out of the question for a clergyman’s wife. But 
meanwhile, he was forced to look calmly on, though in 
his heart he envied the men who waltzed with the 
woman whom he passionately loved. 

93 


94 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


More than once he asked himself, in the bitterness 
of his unreasoning jealousy, whether Cecil really did 
love him, at any rate, as he counted loving? She 
seemed so perfectly happy when with others of her 
set. Was it likely that she should be able to sur- 
render herself utterly to her husband? But nothing 
less than complete surrender would satisfy Robert Saul. 
Cecil Gwynne must be his, and his entirely — his to 
love and cherish, but his also to command. 

To-day, however, Mr. Saul put all such thoughts 
aside, for he was on his way to see Cecil for the last 
time before their marriage. As the Scotch express 
whirled on upon its northern journey, he congratulated 
himself upon being the only occupant of the comforta- 
ble first-class carriage in which he travelled, for he 
wished to be alone. 

The sweet spring sunshine poured in through the 
open windows and filled the air with light; bright and 
tender greens clothed the landscape with a beauty full 
of promise; soft yellows and delicate purples caught 
his eye, as the train rocked onward, for in this joyous 
month of May Nature spreads her flowery carpet upon 
bank and woodland floor. Primroses and wild hya- 
cinths rivalled each other in their new-born loveliness, 
and the young ferns pushed their curled fronds up- 
wards through their mossy coverlet, as though to woo 
Spring’s warm embrace, as it whispered of the sunny 
days to come. Upon each hedgerow was a mantle 
of bright emerald, while below him and upon either 
side, as they slackened speed and breasted a steep 
incline, was a cloudy sea of apple blossom — each soft 
white mass kissed into warmth by the sunset flush of 
its outer petals. And now they passed a meadow full 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


95 


of young life — tiny lambs side by side with their sober 
mothers — one independent baby away there by itself, a 
sleepy ball of softest white. 

Mr. Saul never forgot that journey. For that short 
space of time he was more at peace than ever before 
in his turbulent life — turbulent, because he made it 
so. He lived hard and knew no other way of living. 
That to which Robert Saul once put his will was 
always carried through in less time, and better, than 
was the case with other men. He undertook nothing 
lightly, but once his mind was made up, none had 
ever known him to unmake it — no mow, at least. In 
the single instance of his courtship of Lady Cecil 
Gwynne, he knew that a woman’s sweet attraction had 
kept him wavering between two opinions, until actually 
he, of all men, had let “ I dare not ” wait upon “ I 
would.” But in the end the charm of her love had 
drawn him irrevocably to her side, and finally his 
capitulation had been complete. 

Now a great stillness possessed the man. His heart 
was overfull of gratitude, and he murmured a suppli- 
cating prayer that he might prove worthy of the 
wealth, the honour, and — the purest joy of all — the 
love, which now filled his life to overflowing. The cup 
was sweet to his thirsting lips and he drank and drank 
again. With eyes half closed and lips whispering the 
joy which he could not altogether hold in leash, his 
vivid thought flashed across the intervening days, and 
he seemed to hold his newly-wedded wife within his 
arms. Then a deep reverence for her spotless maiden- 
hood fell upon his heart and bade his passionate 
thought be still. “ Dear God,” he breathed, “ that 
a thing so white and pure should be my own ! ” 


96 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


Very quiet he sat, as the day passed on to eventide 
and lost its beauty in the darkness of the night. 

Later, he roused himself and thus broke the sweet 
chain of thought which bound his limbs and held them 
motionless. For soon his journey would be ended, 
and then — Cecil’s hand would rest within his own, 
and Cecil’s soft caress would fall upon his hungering 
lips ! 

He was surprised, and very pleased also, to see Lord 
Brecon at the station, for it was late, and he had 
not expected that the Earl would leave his library after 
dinner; but Lord Brecon’s first words shocked him 
into a complete coldness. 

44 Robert, I am glad that you have come ! I must 
have wired for you otherwise ! ” 

44 What do you mean?” Mr. Saul asked sternly, 
through suddenly straightened lips. But already he 
seemed to guess the worst, for he drew his tall form 
up stiffly and braced himself as though to battle with 
a storm. 

44 Don’t be alarmed,” Lord Brecon spoke reassur- 
ingly, but he looked worried and indeed ill. 44 There 
has been an accident.” 

Upon the instant he found his arm grasped by an 
iron hand and himself flung round, till he faced the 
stricken man who towered above him. 

44 Be quick ; ” and Robert held the Earl with quiet 
strength. 

Though he scarcely reached above his friend’s shoul- 
der, Lord Brecon lowered his eyes, for he hated the 
task before him. That it must, however, be at once 
performed, he knew, so he told Mr. Saul, as kindly 
and briefly as he could, that his sister’s horses had 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


97 


bolted that afternoon and, upsetting the carriage, had 
thrown her heavily against a stone wall. She was 
still unconscious, but the local doctors were with her 
and Mr. Huntly, a specialist, had been wired for and 
would doubtless leave London by the night mail. 

Robert never spoke through all that long drive 
home. He sat as though carved in stone, his elbows 
pressed upon his knees, and his grand head buried in 
his hands. Lord Brecon was too kind — and too wise 
also — to disturb him, and indeed both men were occu- 
pied in silently praying for the one life to be spared. 
Robert prayed as he never had prayed before; prayed 
that, if a life must needs go out, it might be his own 
and not that of the woman for whom he would, he 
told his God, willingly die a thousand deaths. 

At last the motor had passed the outer gates. A 
moment later it crossed an old drawbridge and drew 
up in front of the principal entrance to the Castle. 
Upon the top of a somewhat narrow flight of steps, 
and within the doorway, stood a woman. Her slight, 
almost childish figure was sharply silhouetted by the 
light from an oil lamp which stood upon a rough stone 
shelf in the outer hall. Both men sprang from the 
car, and asked the same question as they alighted. 

“ Still unconscious ; ” was the reply, “ and the doc- 
tors wish her to be kept very quiet, so I have left 
her with the nurse.” 

Let us look for a moment at the woman who now 
gave what poor encouragement she could to the two 
anxious men, as they eagerly questioned her. A very 
small and dainty person was Miss Beresford. With 
a voice always gentle and a manner protestingly quiet, 
she was called by many affected. Half an hour’s 


98 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


real conversation with her was usually enough, how- 
ever, to dispel this impression and to convey to the 
stranger that which her friends understood perfectly, 
namely, that here was one of the kindest and truest 
natures in the world. 

Miss Beresford had watched tenderly over Lord 
Brecon’s childhood and over that of his sister, and 
had done her best to supply their mother’s place. 
Yet both her nephew and Cecil had, while loving and 
respecting her for her unselfish devotion to their domes- 
tic interests, grown up to regard her as something 
needing care and protection. Now, however, the little 
woman’s love for her niece lent her a fictitious strength 
of both mind and body. With an apparent calmness, 
which surprised herself and all the household, she 
immediately constituted herself head nurse ; nor did 
she relinquish the position, until her own health failed 
under the strain of the anxious days and long sleepless 
nights which followed Cecil’s accident. 

During this period of intense anxiety, the Earl 
took many lonely rides and hardly read a page of the 
new book which Mr. Saul had brought down for him 
and for which he had eagerly longed. He was pass- 
ing through a time of great distress of mind; for he 
was unconsciously testing his religion and, hourly, 
he found it wanting. Not even to Robert Saul would 
he have owned that it had utterly failed him. Lord 
Brecon believed his sister Cecil to be dying, and he 
tortured himself by fears and doubts as to her future 
state, for everything seemed uncertain and vague in 
the extreme. How was it that he could do no more 
than conjecture about existence beyond the grave? 
Often this man, who had a strain of sadness in his 


99 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

nature and was sometimes deeply depressed, was wearied 
by his unsatisfied life and told himself that death, 
when it should come to him , would come as a friend. 
But seeing it approach one dear to him, Lord Brecon 
suddenly asked himself, of what avail would be the 
laying aside of this mortal coil? Unexpectedly, a 
great question arose in his mind and haunted him. 
Suppose that, after all, he and Cecil, and indeed all 
those who thought as they did, should be mistaken? 
Until lately he had felt sure that his ethical views were 
right, but he now asked himself what proof had he to 
substantiate these views? 

The Earl began to wish that his religion was founded 
upon something more reasonable, more tangible, than 
the theories of men. Something within him rose up 
in strong rebellion, dissatisfied with a faith so blind 
as his. Suddenly affrighted, he asked himself why he 
accepted as truth certain dogmas of this faith. Was 
it not, after all, simply because he had been taught 
in his childhood to accept them blindly? Of late years 
certain contradictions had faced him. But he was 
aware that these same contradictions had vexed many 
others, wiser than himself, and had been put aside 
by them as mysteries incomprehensible to man. Dis- 
contented that it should be so, but crushed into help- 
lessness by the thought of a world’s failure to under- 
stand its God, he had endeavoured, in his turn, to put 
them aside unsolved. Now, however, these perplexing 
points marshalled themselves before his mental vision, 
each demanding his acceptance, but each refusing to 
join hands with its neighbour, for not even a world’s 
apathy can reconcile the irreconcilable. 

Wearily he sought a sorry refuge in the almost 


100 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


universally accepted dictum, that it was never intended 
that man should penetrate the mysteries of divine 
metaphysics; rather must he be content to wait until 
death should solve the problem of being. 

But Lord Brecon, though he argued thus, was aware 
of a sense of defeat. He did not say, even to himself, 
that he had merely brushed aside the inevitable for 
a time, but he realised distinctly that, in the hour of 
his need, he had gone for shelter and support to that 
which he had believed to be a rock, only to find that 
it failed him utterly, evading him as some elusive 
shadow might have done. Built of nothing more sub- 
stantial than traditional sentiment, nurtured only 
by man-made theories and human doctrines, his reli- 
gion could not stand the test of a man’s great need. 
It had for its foundation a merely human conception — * 
a thing of form and ceremony — never instituted by the 
Way-shower, Jesus the Christ. 

It was an indication of the fact that no real unity of 
religious thought existed between them, that Mr. Saul 
and Lord Brecon felt quite unable to help each other 
at this period, though each desired to do so. Theo- 
logically, their creed was the same; practically, each 
was beset by troubled thought of which he felt he 
could speak to no one, for who would understand? 
Robert Saul spent long hours in his room, sitting still 
and silent, facing the probability of a future without 
Cecil by his side. So entirely had she become part 
of his inner life, that more than once he rose suddenly 
from his chair, fiercely declaring aloud that she should 
not die. It was impossible. They were made for each 
other ! The one was incomplete, he told himself, with- 
out the other. 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


101 


Then one morning Lord Brecon, accompanied by his 
aunt, called Mr. Saul into the library. Miss Beres- 
ford’s plain little face was wreathed with tremulous 
smiles. 

“ The doctors,” she said, “ have just left . . . 

and . . . and . . . Cecil will live.” 

She had not meant to tell him thus suddenly, but 
she was overdone and quite hysterical. 

Eleanor Beresford was the kindest of women, and 
had scarcely left her niece’s room of late, but now that 
the worst was over, she completely broke down and 
had to be gradually nursed back to health and calm- 
ness. She had risen to the occasion nobly, but only 
at the expense of her own health; and during the 
weeks of prostration which followed, Mr. Saul uncon- 
sciously voiced a world’s perplexity when he said to 
Lord Brecon, “ How strange it seems that people 
should suffer for doing their duty? ” Then he added, 
a little uneasily, and half to himself ; “ . . . it is, 

of course, one of the many things which we shall 
understand some day." 


CHAPTER XI 


TOTAL ECLIPSE 

Upon the further side of every cloud 
The sun is shining; 

So turn thy darkest clouds about 
And view their silver lining. 

— Anon. 


And now for a time Lady Cecil made good progress, 
and Mr. Saul, who was obliged to return to his parish, 
left her with a rapidly growing hope that very soon he 
would be able to take her away as his wife for a quiet 
change. He decided that they would go somewhere, 
quite removed from the scene of her accident and subse- 
quent illness. Already plans were being discussed, and 
it was settled that he should return to Invergach in a 
fortnight to make definite arrangements for the 
journey. 

During that fortnight Robert was very busy set- 
ting his house in order and preparing for his bride. 
Every moment that he could spare from his parish 
duties he devoted to the careful arrangement of her 
rooms. Both bedroom and boudoir must have a sunny 
aspect, as the doctors considered warmth of the ut- 
most importance. This could only be obtained by car- 
rying out various structural alterations in the house, 
for a window must be opened to the west and a door- 
way cut between the two rooms. 

This was done; and now Mr. Saul was taking a 
last look round before starting for the North. He was 
102 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 103 

almost satisfied. That Ilkley couch was light and 
easily moved about at the whim of an invalid, and, 
please God, it would not be needed long. Once he 
could call Cecil his wife, and be free to watch over 
her from morning till night, she would soon be her 
bright strong self again. He wished that her letters 
told him more about her health — she scarcely referred 
to it when writing — but of course no news was good 
news, and to-morrow he would see for himself how 
much strength she had gained during these two weeks. 

But the following evening, when he sat by Lady 
Cecil’s side and told her of all that he had done to 
make their future home bright and acceptable to her, 
he gradually became aware that she was scarcely an- 
swering his joyous talk. He now observed that her 
face had grown still and white. She had not, he knew, 
come down until his arrival just before dinner, and 
yet already she seemed listless and weary. Anxiously 
he asked if he could do anything for her, or would 
she like him to leave her for a time, in order that she 
might rest? 

“ Robert,” Cecil Gwynne spoke gravely, “ you do 
not know that Mr. Huntly came down again yesterday. 
Listen, dear,” and she placed her hand on his, “ I 
would not write this, especially as you were coming 
to-day. It seemed better to tell you myself.” But 
she did not tell him ; instead, her face grew whiter and 
more stern than he had ever seen it. 

“ What have you to tell me?” Robert asked, and 
his voice was a little hushed. 

For a moment Cecil could not answer, her face was 
pitiful in its pain, and her hand held her lover’s more 
tightly than she knew. 


104 * 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


At last she spoke. 44 My darling, don’t you under- 
stand? ... I can never marry you.” 

44 You shall marry me, I swear it,” and Robert Saul 
knelt by her side and, with a touch of perfect tender- 
ness, lifted her until she rested upon his arms. 44 I 
do not care,” he added impetuously, 44 what twenty 
doctors say. We will be married at once, and I will 
nurse you back to health so quickly, dear, once I can 
be always with you to guard you all day long.” 

But Cecil did not answer his passionate protest, 
and seeing that she could not command her voice, nor 
keep back the sobs which now shook her weakened 
frame, Robert raised her in his arms and carried her 
to her room. His magnificent strength made light 
of the burden, and he moved easily up the stairs, not 
pausing until he gently rested her upon her couch. 
There he bade her good-night and left her in her aunt’s 
watchful care. 

It was long before he himself retired, and, when he 
did at last seek his bed, sleep was still far from him; 
nor did he obtain more than a few hours’ broken rest, 
from which he awoke quite unrefreshed. 

On the morrow, Lady Cecil was too ill to leave her 
room, and, after a long hour’s talk with her brother, 
Robert Saul was obliged to admit that marriage was 
for Cecil Gwynne a present impossibility. 

44 The doctors,” Lord Brecon explained to him, 
44 had been quite mistaken in their first diagnosis of 
the case. They had now discovered further injury, 
which rendered all hope of a perfect recovery futile; 
still they thought that, with care and by always win- 
tering in a warm climate, she might live for many 
years.” 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


105 


“ Will she suffer? ” Robert asked abruptly. 

Lord Brecon turned to the window, and avoided his 
companion’s eye. 

“ Yes,” he answered briefly. 

“ Not always! you cannot mean that?” Robert’s 
protest was hot and vehement. 

“ Always, I am afraid ; ” the Earl replied, “ though 
naturally, we shall take all possible precautions. We 
shall move her to the South of France before the 
damp autumn days set in, thus avoiding the risk of 
any further complications such as sciatica or rheu- 
matism.” 

“ 1 will not believe it ! ” Mr. Saul declared passion- 
ately. “ There must be other doctors, cleverer men — 
men who know their business ! Let them be called in 
consultation.” 

“ By all means,” Lord Brecon agreed, “ of course 
we will leave no stone unturned.” 

But the summer wore slowly on and brought no 
lifting of the cloud to the household at the Castle. 
Gradually even Mr. Saul lost heart, for the best advice 
had been obtained — more than one medical man of 
great repute had been summoned from London. Each 
expressed an opinion which, though widely differing 
in detail, yet agreed upon the one point, namely, that 
Lady Cecil Gwynne would never walk again; more — 
that she would in all probability suffer increasingly 
as the years went on. They did not, of course, com- 
mit themselves to the expression of this opinion without 
a struggle, but had recourse to indefinite generalities, 
until pressed into a corner by Mr. Saul, who always 
insisted upon his right to be present with Lord Brecon 


106 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


and Miss Beresford at the interviews which were held 
in the library after the consultations. 

Gradually those who loved Cecil Gwynne gave up 
all hope of her recovery, but still Robert Saul would 
not accept the release which she urged upon him ; for 
his engagement gave him the right to do all that the 
most devoted care could accomplish to lift her awful 
burden. He saw that God had, in His inscrutable 
wisdom, suddenly called upon his child to bear a 
weight of pain and weariness which taxed all her powers 
of self-control. At least, that was how it seemed to 
him. No doubt God knew best, and he and Cecil must 
of course resign themselves to His will. 

One week, late in that summer, the move abroad was 
accomplished. Mercifully the horror of the long and 
tedious journey was somewhat mitigated by a lavish 
expenditure of money. More than once, however, Mr. 
Saul, remembering that there were men and women in 
his parish who also needed this change of climate but 
whose scanty means made all thought of such a thing 
impossible, asked himself why one child of the same 
Father must remain the long winter through in the 
unkind atmosphere of the London fog; while another 
was tenderly carried South and luxuriously cared for 
in every way. How fervently, nevertheless, he thanked 
God that the woman he loved could be saved the 
misery of the fog-laden English days ! 

Once during that winter, after the stress of his 
Christmas work was over, Robert spent a week with 
Miss Beresford and Lady Cecil at Genoa. But upon 
his return, friends exclaimed at his haggard appear- 
ance; and indeed he told himself that he would never 
again willingly pass through an experience such as 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 107 

that had been. Time after time during those few days 
he had abruptly left Cecil’s side, unable to bear the 
sight of her hopeless pain, so quietly and bravely 
endured. For the most part she never spoke of her 
wrecked life, but he was forced into a reluctant admis- 
sion, made only to his own heart, that the sweetness 
of her nature was becoming a little marred, as month 
after month brought with it a heavier burden still to 
bear. Once, though only once, while trying to ease 
her pain, Cecil had addressed him quite irritably, but 
many times she had shown herself to be unobservant 
of his little acts of kindness. He had not minded, 
for he knew that he himself would have borne a trial 
such as hers with far less patience than she displayed ; 
but it perplexed as well as grieved him, that the chas- 
tening hand of God should apparently lead to the 
deterioration of a noble nature, instead of uplifting 
it to a higher refinement. Sadly he reflected that 
sickness very often did have this lowering effect, more 
often than not, in fact: but of course all suffering was 
sent for some good purpose. In this instance they 
had done all that mortal man could do to cure it, and 
had failed. Nothing now remained, therefore, except 
quietly to resign themselves to the will of God, the 
all-wise Father, who evidently did not see fit to lift 
this heavy burden from His child. Mr. Saul could 
not help regretting that Cecil’s sweet nature should 
be thus warped and twisted by a trial which surely 
ought to teach her patient resignation. He could 
not understand it ; and wearily, he classed it with those 
things, the number of which seemed to increase daily 
during this period of his life, which the world regards 
as things not to be understood! 


108 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


Yet surely it was strange that a man like Robert 
Saul should have been content thus to shelve a prob- 
lem dealing with the eternal welfare of mankind. For 
he was wont, when faced by that which he did not 
comprehend, steadily to think the matter out, and he 
would usually wrestle with a knotty problem, whether 
scientific or economic, until it yielded to his powerful 
intellect and purposeful toil. But in the matter of 
ethics he was weighed down — though he did not know 
it — by that universal mental lethargy, which “ healed 
also the hurt of the daughter of my people slightly, 
saying, Peace, peace; when there is no peace.” It is 
so much easier, it would seem, for man to accuse the 
Great First Cause of being the author of all that goes 
wrong than for him to bestir himself and obey the 
promptings of the divine energy which saith, “ Ac- 
quaint now thyself with him and be at peace: thereby 
good shall come unto thee.” 


‘ CHAPTER XII 


DERELICT 

There are longings, yearnings, strivings, 

For the good they comprehend not. 

And the feeble hands and helpless, 

Groping blindly in the darkness. 

Touch God’s right hand in that darkness 
And are lifted up and strengthened. 

— Longfellow. 

Many months had passed since Lady Cecil Gwynne 
had been brought to Italy, but the climate had not 
restored her to health, though no doubt the sunshine 
had made her lot seem a little less unbearable. Lord 
Brecon and his aunt had moved her from place to 
place, in the hope that constant change of scene might 
lift the weariness of spirit which now seemed to pos- 
sess the stricken girl. But soon even a short drive 
became too arduous an undertaking to be calmly faced 
by the invalid, whose pain grew steadily worse as time 
wore on. So Mr. Saul had come over upon a short 
holiday, and he and Lord Brecon had scoured the most 
beautiful parts of the Riviera together, looking for 
suitable winter quarters in which to establish Miss 
Beresford and her charge. 

But Lady Cecil was not easy to please in this matter. 
Her bright nature was, for the time being, completely 
overshadowed, and nothing that those around her could 
do seemed to satisfy her ever-changing whim. Indeed 
109 


110 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


the once gentle, self-possessed girl appeared now to be 
transformed, as though by some evil spirit, into a fret- 
ful and unreasoning creature who made no attempt to 
control her environment but allowed herself to be the 
sport of every little circumstance. 

At times it was almost more than Robert Saul could 
bear to see her thus. He had been accustomed to 
regard her as a dignified woman of the world and had 
never supposed that she could behave ungraciously 
or ungratefully to anyone; much less so to those who 
spent the greater part of their time in the endeavour 
to happify her life. 

At last their search was successful, and before Christ- 
mas the two ladies were established in a beautiful old 
palace standing high among the orange groves. The 
impoverished owner was glad enough to accept the 
liberal terms offered by the luxurious English milord; 
and so the palace and its lovely old gardens were 
secured by Lord Brecon for a year, and it was decided 
that the two ladies should use it as a pied-a-terre dur- 
ing their sojourn abroad. 

They had been installed in it for some months when 
Lady Margaret Courcy joined her young cousin, thus 
releasing Miss Beresford for a time from the labour 
of love which the unselfish little woman had so cheer- 
fully fulfilled for nearly two years. 

One beautiful day in early spring, when the cloud- 
less sky was aglow with sunlight, Lady Cecil Gwynne 
lay alone in the great hall. At first she scarcely 
moved, but remained almost still, with her eyes closed. 
After a time, however, she turned wearily upon her 
side, and gazed gloomily out upon the terraces which 
stretched away in a gorgeous perspective of colour, 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


111 


right down to the edge of the Bay. Everything 
seemed to bloom luxuriantly in this sunny land, and 
the garden was radiant with its wealth of flowers. 
Where Cecil Gwynne lay, however, it was cool and 
intensely quiet. Her couch, placed within the great 
doors, was sheltered from the sun by the marble 
pillars which headed the broad white steps. These 
led down into the garden, only ending by the water 
side. 

To-day, the scent of the orange blossom and gar- 
denia almost oppressed the air and reminded the sick 
girl, hopelessly chained by disease to her couch, that 
she had seen bud, blossom and fruit come and go 
since she left England in search of health, but not 
once had she been able to walk, even a few yards, 
to pluck flower or fruit for herself. Always must 
she depend upon others, and this dependence so fretted 
her that she told herself often that it was a burden 
too great to bear. Thus her natural love of an active 
life rebelled fiercely against her enforced inactivity, 
and she asked herself again, as she had done many times 
since that fatal day, why this thing had come upon 
her? 

As Cecil Gwynne mused upon her hopeless state, a 
shadow fell across the whiteness of the marble colon- 
nade, and Lady Margaret Courcy’s voice addressed 
her, commenting upon the beauty of the walk from 
which she had just returned. 

The next moment she blamed herself for the thought- 
less speech, for she knew that, in all the weeks that 
had passed since her arrival, Cecil had not felt able 
even to drive through the grounds which surrounded 
the old palace. 


112 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

Very kindly Lady Margaret now bent over her cousin 
and arranged her pillow, and as she did so Cecil, though 
less observant of others than in the days of her 
strength, yet noticed that her cousin’s manner was, if 
possible, more quiet than usual. 

44 Cecil ! ” Lady Margaret spoke gravely as she 
seated herself beside the couch, 44 I have decided to 
tell you something which I think may help you to 
bear your pain better, for it will show you, dear,” 
and now the elder woman’s voice was very gentle, 46 that 
there are worse things to be carried through life than 
even a shattered body ! ” 

She paused and looked away from her cousin right 
across the blue water which scintillated in the sun- 
light as she continued ; 44 The story of a wrecked soul 
— a true story of which the world knows nothing, and 
of which I only speak to you now, because it seems 
that you are in danger of not realising all that life 
still holds for you.” 

Lady Margarget paused a moment. This that she 
meant to do was not easy of performance, and for an 
instant she faltered. But a glance at her young 
cousin’s weary face decided her to lift the stone from 
the sepulchre of the past. She did not look at the 
sick girl, however, as she told her tale, but turning a 
little she leant her head back against the cool marble 
pillar and gazed steadily westward, where the sun 
made glorious play upon fleecy clouds and distant 
mountain slopes. 

Cecil was surprised into an unusual interest by her 
cousin’s attitude, and it seemed to her a long time 
before Lady Margaret spoke again. 

44 It was just a year before the death of my mother, 
and I was barely eighteen,” Margaret Courcy resumed, 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


113 


<c when our Rector at Chiltern took a long holiday, 
and a man, whose surname is not important in this 
narrative, took his place for six months. I had, as 
you know, been very strictly brought up and had been 
allowed to associate with but a few outside the family 
circle. Philip was quite the most remarkable man that 
I had ever met, and he satisfied the need, which I had 
felt for some time, of an intellectual companion. My 
father at that time was much away, and my mother 
cared for nothing but her model farm and the welfare 
of the tenantry. She took a great fancy to Philip, 
and he was constantly at the Hall, consulting upon 
parochial matters, till it became an established custom 
for him to stay to tea. Never once, however, did my 
mother leave us alone even for a moment; not because 
it would have entered her head that we could care for 
each other, but her social views were old-fashioned in 
the extreme, and she considered that unmarried girls 
should remain at all times beneath the shadow of a 
parent’s wing. Her own conversation with Philip over, 
she took very little notice of us, and seemed content 
that we should enjoy long uninterrupted talks, while 
she wrote her letters or busied herself with the copying 
of an old tapestry. She was an expert at this fine 
needlework, and it quite absorbed her attention, when- 
ever she engaged upon it. So it was that Philip and 
I learned to know each other well, and I was not unpre- 
pared for the question which he at length found an 
opportunity of formally putting to me. One day, 
while we were all walking in the Park, my mother 
rested for a few moments, and I obeyed the compelling 
look which Philip threw at me and strolled on for a 
few hundred yards with him, until the trees of a small 
coppice partially hid us from her view. 


114 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


“ Five minutes later, I had promised that, come 
what might, I would be his wife, and I wanted then and 
there to inform my mother of our engagement; but 
my lover counselled delay. He wished, he said, to 
wait until my father returned from Russia: he would 
prefer himself to put the matter before the Duke. 
I never for a moment doubted the final issue, for I 
intended to marry Philip, or to die unmarried. 

“ But the very day before my father’s expected re- 
turn from Russia, Philip astounded me by boldly pre- 
ferring a request, in my mother’s presence, that I 
would walk a little way in the Park with him. I be- 
lieve that my mother was too amazed to dissent. It 
would have made no difference had she done so, for I 
should have disobeyed her , rather than the look of 
desperate misery in my lover’s eyes. So, braving her 
certain displeasure, I immediately accompanied Philip 
out into the grounds. Ten minutes later we stood 
together in the now snow-bound coppice — alone, for 
the second time only in our lives. I believe that Philip 
suffered then as much as such a man can suffer, while 
he told me, in a few miserable halting words that he 
could never marry me ; told me that before we had ever 
met he had bound himself by vows, which he dared not 
cut asunder, to the life of a celibate. 

“ At first, it seemed to me, that either he or I was 
surely mad, but, when I understood him, my heart 
seemed to turn to ice and my blood to leap and rush 
through my veins as though on fire. What I said I 
hardly knew at the time, enough at any rate to send 
him speechless from my presence. I remember noth- 
ing distinctly until my mother touched me upon the 
arm and asked me if I were ill. Then I raised my 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


115 


head and laughed so loud that terrified she led me 
to the house. It was believed that the bitter cold had 
caught me unawares, for when leaving the house with 
Philip, I had stayed for neither hat nor wrap. Many 
weeks I lay between life and death, my limbs fettered 
by rheumatic fever and my brain bewildered by a hun- 
dred wildest dreams. However, my youth and strength 
brought me through, but during my convalescence I 
asked myself how I should live the life before me? It 
was not only that Philip had killed my faith in him. 
He had done far worse than that! Though I was 
only eighteen my religion was already the dominant 
feature of my life ; I believed implicity in the Apostolic 
succession, and therefore I had believed and accepted 
absolutely every word that Philip’s tongue had voiced, 
and often he used to speak of the fundamental necessity 
of truth in all religion. I had listened enrapt as, 
Sunday after Sunday, he preached to our village con- 
gregation of the beauty of holiness ; I believe now that 
my love, combined with my ignorance, exalted him 
at times into something far above the ordinary man. 
His beautiful ascetic face and perfect intonation lent 
a great charm to his rendering of the service. I 
judged the Church by him and, with the simplicity of 
a child, I accepted him as the impersonation of truth. 

“ Ycu can imagine what a revulsion necessarily took 
place when I found that, from the very first, he had 
been guilty of deception. I was very young and very 
proud, and this discovery completely annihilated my 
faith in man and filled me with distrust of the organisa- 
tion, of which Philip was a minister. Later, however, 
I saw that it was unjust to judge the many by the 


one. 


116 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


“ From that day to this I have searched and searched 
for peace, but I find none. I find myself compelled to 
believe in a great creative and controlling power, who 
appears to me to act with less consistency and to 
show less love towards his children than I would to a 
dumb creature in my care. And yet,” — Lady Mar- 
garet spoke wistfully now, and the hard lines about her 
mouth softened as her lips trembled slightly — “ and 
yet, I am so hungering for Truth, so longing to 
believe in a God of love, that I would fain, even now, 
after all my years of weary search, be told that the 
mistake lies in myself — if so be, I can thus learn how 
to rectify it.” 

As Margaret Courcy ceased speaking her voice 
dropped wearily, and Lady Cecil caught her cousin’s 
hand in both her own. 

“ Oh, Margaret ! ” she said, “ what you have suf- 
fered! I would rather die,” she added vehemently, 
“ than know Robert other than he is.” 

Lady Margaret rose and kissed the girl softly on 
the forehead. “ My story lies safe in your keeping, 
Cecil ; see that it never leaves your lips. The un- 
shrouding of my dead has been no easy task, but if 
it can help the living, I am glad to have unbound 
the cords that held the past so close within my heart. 
Tell me, Cecil,” — she added rather piteously — “ does 
your religion help you, dear? So often I have watched 
the good ones of this earth fret and rattle in their 
chains ! I do not understand it. Why does sorrow 
warp and narrow the mentality of man? Why does 
sickness blemish the character instead of sanctifying 
it, if, as the Church teaches, it comes from God? ” 

“ Why am I more selfish now than formerly, more 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 117 

hard and cold? capricious instead of reasonable?” 
Cecil Gwynne broke in passionately. “ I do not under- 
stand it either, Margaret. I have prayed for patience 
night and day ; but, oh ! it must come quickly, or 
I too shall lose my faith in God, if not in man.” And 
the girl turned gloomily away and spoke no more for 
many hours. 

After a time Lady Margaret Courcy rose and walked 
slowly up and down the great hall ; and as she watched 
her Cecil Gwynne did not wonder that a priest had 
perjured his soul to win her. 

Though the years had passed since then, Margaret 
Courcy was still the most beautiful woman in London. 
Tall, and with a carriage that many a queen had envied, 
she passed through life with a serene and stately 
grace. To-day, with undulating grace, she paced the 
hall from end to end; now pausing beneath a slender 
palm with its drooping plume of green, now arresting 
her steps between the marble pillars which foiled and 
framed her dark, but brilliant, beauty between their 
lines of glistening white. Cecil looked at her and, 
looking, thought that surely time had passed her by, 
leaving her classic beauty quite untouched. She now 
understood for the first time that it was this wound, 
received in early youth, which had turned her cousin’s 
heart to stone, transforming her into a woman full 
grown before ever she had bent her knee before her 
sovereign. 

While still very young, the Lady Margaret Courcy 
had accompanied the Duke, her father, into the pres- 
ence of kings and princes and everywhere had been 
the courted of all courtiers, so alluring men by her 
loveliness of face and form that they dared to brave 


118 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


the cold disdain, which made its home within her eyes 
and claimed for its very own the smile upon her lips. 
But always her answer had been the same — she loved 
no man and would never marry where she did not 
love. 

This much Cecil Gwynne had known, as did all their 
world, but of her cousin’s inner life she had, until that 
hour, known no more than did the young courtier who 
bent before the Lady Margaret at his first court ball 
and who, because he was so young and as yet almost 
unspotted by the world, was sure to win from her 
a smile less cold than did the elder men who, standing 
by, bent low as well — men who, when bending, stirred 
carelessly the orders upon their breasts — jewels too 
lightly won to be aught but lightly worn. 

That evening the cousins talked long and earnestly, 
and later, when Margaret Courcy sat alone in her 
room, she sighed wearily more than once and asked 
herself sadly, what was the object of it all? To what 
end had she come into the world? For what reason 
was Cecil’s young life — aye, and that of many another 
— turned suddenly into a burden so great as this? a 
burden so great that those who loved them best could 
find it in their hearts to pray that death might hasten 
his silent step and so release them from the bondage 
of their hourly pain? But here thought gave pause 
as Margaret, startled, asked herself ; “ And what then ? 
what beyond the grave?” Then answering thought, 
all befogged by the misty earth-clouds of the past, 
made slow reply ; “ Beyond the grave there is nothing 
certain, save a great uncertainty ! ” 


CHAPTER XIII 


“MAN, WHOSE BREATH IS IN HIS NOSTRILS ” 

Negation is a barren wilderness. 

— J. Crichton Brown. 

A few days after her intimate talk with her cousin, 
Lady Cecil Gwynne wrote to Mr. Saul — a long let- 
ter, definitely breaking off their engagement. She 
wrote lovingly, but quite decidedly. It was the least 
egotistical letter that she had written to her lover for 
a long time, and it touched him deeply. His reply was 
characteristic of the man’s impulsive nature. He sent 
a swift message over land and sea informing Lady 
Cecil that he was starting by that morning’s mail for 
Italy. 

Next evening, as he knelt beside her couch and 
pleaded that she would reconsider her decision, his 
fellow-workers would scarcely have recognised Robert 
Saul as the man whom they were accustomed to see 
take all obstacles in his stride. Often he seemed to 
those who watched him to be riding for a fall, but in- 
variably his courage and unswerving determination 
landed him safely upon the far side, while other men 
were left behind, still cautiously negotiating the leap 
from a less difficult point. 

To-night, the soft brightness of the moon shed a 
light, more gentle though nearly as clear as day, full 

119 


wo 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

upon Mr. Saul’s face, and the rugged lines seemed to 
be smoothed away by the tender thought which entirely 
controlled him. 

Very kindly he held Cecil’s almost nerveless hands 
within his large strong grasp, and very gently he at 
last consented to annul his engagement, but only for 
a year. 

44 You have so often spoken like this of late,” he 
said, 44 that I am compelled to obey you and take my 
dismissal with what grace I may, but, my dear,” 
and he smiled as he quietly drew her head upon his 
shoulder, 44 1 wonder why you do it! You surely know 
that upon the very day the year is up I shall stand 
beside you and renew the contract. Why waste a 
year, beloved?” he pleaded, 44 you know that I shall 
always love you, and you alone! You know that I 
could never marry any other woman ! Why waste a 
precious year? Marry me to-morrow, Cecil,” he added 
more passionately, 44 and prove me, dear, if I be not 
the tenderest, kindest nurse that ever a woman 
had!” 

With his arms about her, wooing her by their strong 
support, Cecil yet fought and won the battle between 
duty and desire. It was hard indeed to forego the only 
thing that seemingly could mitigate her lot, but she 
remembered — what Robert at the moment did not 
remember — that his work called him to a more strenu- 
ous life than could be wrought out beside a woman’s 
chair. 

Reminded of this, Mr. Saul for an instant stood 
almost doubtful, but immediately he gave his stead- 
fast answer back. 

44 My parish can doubtless be better managed by 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


121 


a better man, and there is work for God’s servants 
everywhere. Is the world not wide, and is there not 
sin upon which to wage war from north to south, from 
east to west? As well work out the great problem of 
good and evil here in the sunny South with you to 
help me, as in the colder North, where you cannot be 
beside me.” 

But Cecil would not have it so. Should he still 
wish it a year hence, they might then renew the dis- 
cussion. The celebrated continental doctors, from 
whose treatment, combined with the climate of the 
Mediterranean, they had all hoped so much, had, 
however, that week told Lady Margaret Courcy that 
her cousin’s fate was sealed, and Cecil insisted that 
she would not tie Robert’s vigorous manhood to her 
helpless state. 

Softly Robert kissed her tears away, soothing her 
gently as a mother tenderly caresses a tired child, 
when nursing it to sleep. Then he left her with Mar- 
garet Courcy, and walked out into the silent night, 
there to battle with a future which stretched out in 
endless view before his sorrowful imagination. 

To-night, Cecil had been like her own sweet self, 
brave and thoughtful for the welfare of another, keep- 
ing her own deep sorrow in the background. But 
Robert knew that the effort had been a supreme one, 
and that probably upon the morrow all her sweetness 
would be submerged once more by the turbulent waves 
of bodily suffering. Oh, the pity of it! that a nature 
once so lovable and lovely — aye, a character of such 
rich promise — 'should now be able to rise only when 
called upon to meet a great occasion, letting for the 
most part the daily stress of life’s little things govern 


122 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


it completely, thus filling the moral atmosphere around 
with the darkness of perpetual discord. 

As Mr. Saul walked upon the moonlit shore, he 
turned and stood for a while gazing at the silver sea. 
It rose and fell with a placid movement, gently swell- 
ing its way over the white sands and softly lapping 
the base of the ink-black rocks. And the golden 
moon smiled gravely upon the scene but brought no 
comfort to the sorrowing man, who stood with face 
turned upwards, silently petitioning for light upon 
the rugged path of life. 

For hours Robert Saul remained there, and that 
night he vowed, again and again, that come what 
might, he would love and shelter Cecil Gwynne as 
much as in him lay, and this, as long as they both 
should live. 

To remain in London within easy reach of her and 
yet forbidden to see her, did not at the moment seem 
possible to Mr. Saul. He was in that condition of 
mind which made the Babylonian turmoil of the city’s 
teeming need abhorrent to him. Upon every side, look 
where he would, he saw the same dead level of failure, 
and to-night it made him sick at heart. Noble men 
and loving women were, he knew, overworking them- 
selves hourly — some into a premature old age, some 
into a state of mental exhaustion, and some even liter- 
ally to death — in the endeavour to save a world from 
sin, and with what result? With all their unselfish 
toil, with all their liberal expenditure of money and of 
life, had they done more than touch the fringe of that 
seething sin which festers the heart of heathen London ? 

Along there by the quiet sea, with only the calm of 
the still night about him, Mr. Saul confessed to him- 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


123 


self that because the world loves its sin so well, some- 
thing — what he knew not — but something with a power 
as jet untried, must arise in order to stem the down- 
ward trend of man’s morality. 

As the night wore slowly on, the resolve to leave 
England for a time formed itself within his mind. 
For this coming year, at any rate, he would go to some 
distant land, as far as might be from any city’s crowded 
need, and there renew his mental energy. 

The early dawn was creeping up from the east as 
he turned his steps homeward. Thick clouds were 
drifting overhead, for the bright moonlight had given 
place to an uncertain shade that brooded over the 
land and shrouded olive trees and palms alike in name- 
less robes of shadow. The wooded landscape was thus 
peopled with uncertain forms, which changed continu- 
ally as his vision neared them, even as does the back- 
ground of a misty dream. 

And how was Cecil spending the long hours of that 
night, during which Robert schooled himself to meet 
the farewell which lay before them both upon the mor- 
row? For her, the night was always a period of 
suffering such as can be understood only by those 
who have endured a like torture. Days of enforced 
inactivity were followed by nights of restless misery; 
hour after hour she lay awake, her distress seeming 
the greater because of the quiet rest enjoyed by others. 

To-night, sleep was far indeed from her pillow, but 
she dared not take the drug which lay ready to her 
hand. Every dose was less efficacious and, to be of 
use, must be continually increased. For weeks she 
had found it impossible to sleep without taking the 
narcotic. How often she had vowed that she would 


124 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


not take it! Sometimes, by sheer force of will, she 
succeeded in living the night through without its aid; 
but, alas ! how often had she been defeated by the 
mental agony of insomnia, coupled with the presence 
of severe physical pain. To-night, she read again, 
for the twentieth time since Margaret Courcy had left 
her, the instruction upon the bottle which the nurse 
had placed close to her hand, “ To be taken if restless 
at night.” 

The words were a perpetual invitation to unrest, a 
perpetual suggestion of relief — relief of a purely tem- 
porary nature she knew, and carrying in its train the 
inevitable reaction upon the morrow. Now for some 
hours the girl courted repose by every wile of which 
she found herself the mistress; but in vain. The day 
had been a trying one, and the future years stared her 
in the face with a cruel grimness. Lady Cecil had of 
late acquired the habit, which usually goes hand in 
hand with chronic illness, of living in the future and 
the past; thus she lived a year in a day and was 
rapidly losing all sense of youth. 

Once Robert had gently reminded her that we are 
told to 66 take no thought for the morrow,” but, even 
as he spoke, he realised that he knew no one who 
obeyed the Master’s command, unless it were those of 
tenderest age and gentlest nature among children. 

As Cecil Gwynne now tossed from side to side, she 
moaned in her stress of mind, and asked herself why 
the life which she had meant to live for others had 
been rendered useless by her God? Why also should 
Robert suffer with her? Reflecting, she realised that 
the sickness of the one usually meant the suffering of 
the many: whether it were the busy mother of a 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


125 


family, or the bread-winner for many hungry mouths, 
mattered not. How could it be a just decree that 
punished the helpless brood dependent upon the parent 
strength, sometimes for its very life? But of what 
avail to ask this question ? Death would come to all in 
time and, coming, would bring to all alike the solution 
of the problem of their being. Meanwhile, life must be 
borne as best it might be and death awaited with what 
patience each sufferer could command! At last, worn 
out with these perplexing thoughts, the girl could bear 
the lonely night hours no longer and, reaching for the 
draught, she sought a troubled rest — a rest all un- 
worthy of the name, because all too short and fitful 
to refresh or soothe. 

As the weary months slowly followed the one upon 
the other, she asked herself again and again those 
weighty questions to which, sooner or later, all must 
seek an answer: — If God is Love, why does He send 
to His children the grievous burden of sickness and 
death? Does He slay the very child to whom He has 
given birth? or, being Almighty, does He authorise 
or permit some other power so to do? And what meant 
Jesus by all that he said and did? When healing the 
sick, was he undoing the work of Him who sent him? 
or was he releasing those “ Whom Satan hath bound ”? 
When raising the dead was he reversing the will of 
God, or, by restoring that which to human vision 
seemed lost, was he showing to men the “ glory of 
God ” — the righteousness of life and the unrighteous- 
ness of its opposite, death? 

Cecil Gwynne did not, however, carry the question 
thus far. Indeed she seldom carried any question far, 
for her once clear thought was often now benumbed; 


126 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


but slowly a conviction was borne in upon her, and it 
brought her closer to God than she had ever been be- 
fore. This hell in which she lived! it was not of His 
making, and so she would pray day and night to be 
released from it. She would not resign herself to this 
wasted existence ; above all, she would not hold God 
responsible for it. Thus she thought, and thus she 
prayed in her better moments ; but then would come 
days all clouded with pain, and she would sink beneath 
the weight of that theology which holds God guilty 
of all that men fail to comprehend. 

But running through even her darkest hours was a 
desire to escape from the sickness that imprisoned her, 
and often now her thought recurred to a certain course, 
of which many friends had spoken, but which she had 
not hitherto seriously contemplated, chiefly because she 
found it impossible to believe that anything could aid 
one in such a hopeless condition as herself. Now, how- 
ever, with a curious persistence this one untried remedy 
presented itself to her, until finally she decided, to 
consult her brother about the matter ; and she was 
actually disappointed when he refused to give it any 
serious consideration, deeming it both useless and ab- 
surd to try anything of the kind. He knew nothing 
of Christian Science, but he pronounced it fit only for 
the consideration of hysterical women or nervous men ; 
and so for a time Cecil Gwynne, too weak to argue, 
sank into a state of hopeless apathy, leaving the mis- 
take of man to run its course. 


CHAPTER XIV 


ANGOLA* 


Whatever day 

Makes man a slave takes half his worth away. 

— Pope. 


It was a week since Mr. Saul had so reluctantly taken 
farewell of Lady Cecil Gwynne, and he was now mak- 
ing his final arrangements preparatory to leaving 
England for a year. His friends and acquaintances 
all thought him mistaken and wondered that any such 
sudden freak should rule a man like Robert Saul. 
Then a whisper of his love story found its way about, 
and men marvelled still more, for they had not sup- 
posed that the woman lived who could cause any 
alteration in the plan of Mr. Saul’s life! But only 
one friend ever spoke to him on the subject, and that 
was Lord Brecon. He himself was of all men the 
least ambitious, but he had a great admiration for 
Mr. Saul’s remarkable powers of mind and also for 
his splendid vitality; and it seemed to him that the 
man was sacrificing the certainty of a great future 
to a passing phase, bom of a disappointment which 
would have been more quickly outgrown had he re- 
mained at his post in the crowded capital. 

“ 4 Out of sight,’ was,” he reminded Robert, “ 6 out 

* This chapter is founded upon information, received personally 
from an English missionary and published in the “ Illustrated 
Missionary News,” and from “ A Modern Slavery,” by Nevinson. 

127 


128 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


of mind.’ ” For a rising man to leave England when, 
should he remain, he had the certainty of preferment 
before him, was surely an act of supreme folly. 

Mr. Saul listened to his friend courteously, but he 
hardly heard what he said. It was not his habit to 
alter his decision at the suggestion of anyone. The 
boy had, in his case, undoubtedly fathered the man. 
Years ago nurse, parent and schoolmasters had alike 
called him obstinate, and the characteristic was his 
still, though there were not many people sufficiently 
intimate with him to use that same bald word now. 
With the passing of years he had acquired that habit 
of mind which rather prides itself upon what the world, 
with superficial hurry, designates as firmness : and he 
now left England, notwithstanding all that Lord 
Brecon urged to the contrary. 

On his arrival in Angola he made arrangements al- 
most immediately with a missionary, whom he chanced 
to meet upon landing, to join him in a journey up 
country. It was his intention to begin a crusade 
against the fiendish cruelty which he heard was daily 
practised upon the helpless negroes in the interior ; and 
a week after he reached Africa he started upon his 
mission. 

To-day, the flat country for miles around appeared 
to be asleep ; not a human being stirred, and even the 
animals were seemingly oppressed by the heat and were 
maintaining an unusual silence. The day was intensely 
hot, and a shimmering mist hung over the landscape. 
The great leaves of the banana and plantain trees, 
beribboned by a recent gale, now hung motionless, 
and Mr. Saul and his new acquaintance agreed that 
they must at once seek the safety of shade and rest. 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


129 


An hour previously they had landed upon the shore 
of Cabinda Bay, intending at once to proceed into 
the interior. The sun, however, was already high in 
the heavens, and Mr. Saul was too little acclimatised 
to venture upon a further journey until the cool of 
the evening. The two men therefore entered a little 
bungalow close to the landing stage, and it was with 
a sigh of relief that Robert Saul threw himself full 
length upon the bare boards of the verandah, which 
ran round three sides of the tiny factory. This little 
white building, with its green jalousies, formed a well- 
known landmark for miles around. After a short 
period, during which he vainly endeavoured to obtain 
a little rest, Mr. Saul resigned himself to the discom- 
fort of his position, and rather suddenly fell asleep in 
spite of the army of mosquitoes which quickly recog- 
nised the fresh blood and sought it hungrily. Scarcely 
half an hour had passed, however, before he awoke to 
the dim realisation of something unpleasant. Rousing, 
he leant upon one elbow and gazed across the rough 
track, trodden by the bare feet of the blacks into some 
semblance of a road. There he saw that a complete 
change had come over the lethargic scene since he had 
entered the factory but a short while since. 

The little store which adjoined it was still closed, 
but already gangs of people had come in from the 
interior, their number having been increased en route 
by many stragglers — natives who had attached them- 
selves to their more prosperous brothers in the hope 
of earning a bottle of rum by carrying the palm kernels 
and other native produce, when the way became rough 
and the sun more powerful. It was the noisy chatter 
of these blacks that had aroused Mr. Saul, for there 


130 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


were numbers round the verandah, and they were all 
awaiting with much impatience the arrival of the white 
man. 

Presently the door of the store was unlocked from 
within, and a greedy rush was made by the natives, 
each desiring to be the first to barter his produce for 
rum. 

Three hours later, Mr. Saul turned with sorrow and 
disgust from the scene before him. Trade had, alas ! 
been brisk, and now not a native was left upon his 
feet. Some lay prostrate under the cocoa-nut palms, 
too drunk to resent the pilfering hand which stole 
towards the last half-bottle of rum that had slipped 
from the nerveless fingers: others snored the hours 
away in besotted slumber, lying huddled just where 
the cursed devil, drink, had thrown them : others, whose 
share of the spoil had been less, were drunk also, but 
not helplessly so. These quarrelled uproariously, 
mingling their native dialect with profane cries in an- 
other language — cries in which they appealed to the 
white man’s fetish to save them from some fancied 
foe — one man taking out an image of the Virgin 
Mother and thrusting it before the face of his con- 
tentious neighbour, while another attempted to balance 
himself upon his knees before an image of the Saviour 
and with horrible, drunken babbling implored vengeance 
upon his brother. 

Filled with disgust and indignation, Mr. Saul leaped 
from the low verandah and, with one sweep of his 
powerful arm, hurled the miserable creature out of 
his path. Stooping, he lifted the clay image, which 
had for him a sanctity utterly incomprehensible to 
its owner even when sober, and, carrying it into the 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


131 


house, he sought his friend. He found him in the small 
back room to which he had retired upon their arrival. 
Mr. Martin was just drawing on his white drill coat 
and preparing to mix himself a cool cfrink of lime 
juice and tonic water. 

The sight of Mr. Saul’s face, however, arrested his 
action. “What is it?” he asked, surprised. 

“ Blasphemy and bestiality,” Mr. Saul replied bit- 
terly. “ Is this how the white man civilises his black 
brother? ” he added passionately, and as he spoke, he 
drew Mr. Martin into the open doorway from which 
spot the pandemonium outside could be seen and heard. 

A moment later the young trader joined them. “I 
have had a good day,” he said complacently, “ I have 
passed a hundred and eighty gallons of rum.” 

“ To-day is Sunday,” Mr. Saul remarked coldly : 
“ Is this a fair specimen of your Sundays here? ” 

“ It is a fair specimen of the three hundred and 
sixty-five days of the year,” the man answered calmly. 
“ Rum is the thing that pays here, for not only do 
we barter with it, but the wages of workmen are 
usually paid in it.” 

Angry and sick at heart, Mr. Saul turned away. 
He had left England hoping to rest awhile from the 
perpetual conflict with vice, but here he found degra- 
dation as deep and pitiful. What of the man beside 
him — a young Englishman apparently of good birth 
and education, who was, it seemed, content to spend 
his best years in deliberately holding out, with both 
hands, ruin to a race too ignorant to recognise as 
such the snares which were being wound around it? 

That evening the two clergymen started upon their 
further journey into the interior, and from his com- 


132 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

panion Robert Saul heard much that shocked him 
deeply. 

Later, when he came across the natives much further 
inland, he forced this question home upon his thought, 
“ Has Christianity, as it has been taught in Angola, 
elevated the race? ” For here, in the interior, he found 
the native religion was the same as that of other 
Basota tribes, and he could not deny that, heathen 
though they were, the depravity was less marked up 
in the interior than upon the coast, where their religion 
was unworthy to bear the name of Christ, being no 
more than a mixed jumble of idolatry and superstition 
without a particle of spiritual understanding. 

One day, while returning to the coast, chance led 
Mr. Saul across the route used by the traders when 
carrying off their victims to the West Coast. That 
the slave trade was actively carried on in the vast 
district, roughly described as the interior of Central 
Africa, he knew. Upon the day of which I write, 
however, he was for the first time brought face to face 
with it and saw before him, unmasked and naked in 
its awful pain, “ Africa’s open sore ” ; and it seemed 
to Robert Saul that he heard his brother’s blood 
crying unto him from the ground and speaking loudly 
of work left undone. Changing his plans upon the in- 
stant, he turned and followed the road to Bibe, say- 
ing to himself that he would dive to the depth of this 
horrible thing and thus be justified in preaching against 
it. That journey he never forgot. He met thou- 
sands of slaves, shackled and lashed together with 
leather thongs, each carrying a heavy burden above 
their shackles. Thus they were driven like cattle, 
and upon inquiry he found that never, under any cir- 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


133 

cumstances, did more than a very small percentage of 
these wretched exiles arrive at Bibe. He learnt that 
this traffic in human flesh was carried on practically 
under the protection of the Portuguese Government. 
At Bibe the remnant of the traders’ stock is sold, many 
slaves being possessed by the officials, who buy their 
concubines there. Determined to probe the sore to 
the bottom, Mr. Saul joined a missionary who pro- 
posed to cross the Quanza ; but he had grim reason 
to regret the impulse which had led him to investigate 
this iniquitous traffic in flesh and blood. Again and 
again, he was forced to turn away from the sights 
about his path: again and again, he hastily shut his 
eyes and bent his head, feeling suddenly sick, as some 
spectacle abhorrent to the sight met his gaze. Day 
after day slave gangs passed them : day after day their 
hearts were wrung by the sight of dead and decom- 
posing bodies by the wayside. Some of the poor crea- 
tures had evidently been knocked on the head; others 
had been hamstrung and left to die. Night after 
night, more worn out by the horrors of his journey 
than by the arduous travelling, Mr. Saul laid down 
upon his camp bed, only to find that restful sleep was 
utterly out of the question. With sickening reitera- 
tion the crack, crack of the slave whip seemed to din 
in his ears, and twice he started up and rushed out of 
his tent, sure that he heard again the dull thud of the 
club upon some poor victim’s back. 

One night, soon after crossing the Quanza, he 
dreamed and suffered as he dreamed, for he witnessed 
once again the saddest sight that he had ever seen — a 
young and comely girl, shackled and roped, struggling 
wildly in her chains, mad with grief and pain; now 


134 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


laughing vacantly, now cringing in terror before the 
driver’s whip, now crying for the loved one who had 
dropped upon the road! Struggling to aid her, he 
awoke to find his travelling companion by his side. 

“ Why, Saul, your cries roused me ! you must not 
let that incident get upon your nerves ; it does no 
good. God grant that one day the civilised world will 
awaken to its terrible sin of omission ; meanwhile, it 
will not help matters for you to get ill.” 

Though comforted for a time by a like hope, Mr. 
Saul had, after his return to England, grown dis- 
heartened. So many, upon hearing his recital of that 
upon which his eyes had looked, had exclaimed sym- 
pathetically and theorised not a little and then — had 
gone to dinner or to dance, seemingly untouched by 
the woes of a tortured race ! Once he thought that he 
had really made an impression, and in an important 
direction. About a month after reaching England he 
had met an old college friend, who, he found, held an 
appointment upon the staff of a big paper. His friend 
had listened quietly and had asked many questions, 
finally promising to “ take it up.” He made Mr. Saul 
tell him in detail of the punishment dealt out to the 
slave, who, courting death in the bush rather than life 
upon the plantations, should attempt to escape. He 
had looked horrified, while Mr. Saul described that 
which he had himself seen, namely, some slaves who, 
after being severely “ palmatared,” were extended be- 
tween four posts fixed in the ground, face downwards, 
the body just touching a barrel placed in the centre 
of the posts, and “ chocotteed ” on the back. 

The poor creatures had fainted several times while 
undergoing the torture, and all the other slaves were 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


135 


compelled to witness this terrible scene. Afterwards, 
their bleeding backs were washed with antiseptic, and 
the irony of the thing had seemed horrible to Mr. Saul 
— an action which was a disgrace to manhood, white- 
washed by an “ antiseptic,” the product of civilisation ! 
His journalistic friend had drawn from him the fact 
that the average life of a slave on the plantation is 
five years ; the death rate being very high owing to the 
pitiless rule of the masters. And then, after all, his 
friend had put the matter on the shelf until a more 
convenient season. But Robert Saul could not let the 
thing rest, and for some time the sights and sounds 
of that journey in Africa were apt to haunt him when 
he returned home wearied by a long day’s work. For 
the blackness of man’s brutality stood out in his mem- 
ory, sharply silhouetted against the surrounding bright- 
ness of the scene, where torture and wanton murder 
seemed to desecrate the purity of the tropical sun- 
light and the fair beauty of nature. 

Upon the night of which I have spoken, Mr. Saul 
lay awake long after his companion had returned to 
his own tent, and he said to himself wearily that he 
had made a mistake in coming to Angola. 

He had left England, saddened by the power of evil 
and the seeming impotence of good, and he had thought 
to find refreshment here, among new scenes and in a less 
congested atmosphere. But bitter disappointment met 
him at every turn. Indeed, as month after month went 
by, the grim fact faced him, that, in this land of fair 
forest and immense space, sin in foulest form held sway. 
Vice, less educated perhaps, less subtle, but vice, which 
(alas! that it should be so) went hand in hand with 
the advent of the white man, was here, and it lowered 


186 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


both black and white alike to the degraded plane of 
animality and hate. 

And what of Robert Saul’s months of desperate 
effort and self-sacrificing toil? True, more than once 
his work had been seriously interfered with by a sharp 
attack of malaria which even his robust system had 
failed to throw off completely. But he was not the 
only worker there. Others, like himself, were despon- 
dent as they reviewed their months of apparently fruit- 
less labour, and saw the black sinking lower under his 
burden of slavery and shame, and worse still, the white 
man descending from his own estate to the level of the 
beast. It was therefore with a feeling of relief that 
Mr. Saul stood one day upon the deck of the homeward 
bound mail. He had just despatched a cable to Lady 
Cecil Gwynne apprising her of the date of his return. 
But of course she knew that date and knew that he 
would not be one hour late. Not once during the past 
eleven months had he heard from her, for upon that 
point she had been firm when they parted. But to a 
constant nature such as Mr. Saul’s a deprivation of 
this kind could make no difference in the growth of 
his love, and he believed that Cecil was more necessary 
to him now than ever before. Her weak and crippled 
state only called up in him a great desire to wrap her 
round with his manhood’s strength and shield her life 
as much as in him lay. 

Now that his year of waiting drew near to its close, 
he found himself hungering more consciously for the 
touch of Cecil’s hand and more determined than 
before that nothing should ever separate them again. 
He smiled as this thought crossed his mind, for what 
could separate them now? He had been tried in the 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 187 


fire and he had stood the test, and he — well — he never 
had doubted that at the year’s end he would stand 
beside Cecil Gwynne, and marry her as soon as might 
be. And so that voyage was not an unhappy time 
for Robert Saul. His impatient nature found it hard 
to await the first sight of the English shore, but the 
goal which was always before his mental vision was 
worth the waiting, and — it was the last time! Nothing 
could, nothing should , ever separate him from Cecil 
Gwynne again. 





Part III 

A THREAD OF GOLD IN THE HAND OF GOD 

















CHAPTER XV 


THE MIDNIGHT CALL 


As torrents in summer, 

Half dried in their channels, 

Suddenly rise, though the 
Sky is still cloudless 
For rain has been falling 
Far off at their fountains. 

So hearts that are fainting 
Grow full to o’erflowing. 

And they that behold it 
Marvel and know not, 

That God at their fountains 
Far off has been raining! 

— Longfellow. 

And what of Cecil Gwynne during that year which 
Robert Saul spent in Africa? 

It was New Year’s Day. The months had come 
and gone since she had bidden him a reluctant fare- 
well, and to-day she was wondering how she could 
have sent him from her side. Lady Margaret Courcy 
was with her once more, and kind little Miss Beres- 
ford too, and the doctors had the day before sug- 
gested that they should telegraph for Lord Brecon, 
who was in London. “ Was there danger for her 
life? ” Margaret Courcy had asked. “ Ah, no ! Milady 
would live, perhaps for years, but always now she would 
suffer more and more!” 

141 


142 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


Cecil was told nothing of this, but she read more than 
they intended in the grave faces and subdued manner 
of those about her. That evening she called Margaret 
Courcy to her and insisted that she should immediately 
write to Lord Brecon, urging him to obtain for her 
the help of the one thing which had not yet been tried ; 
nor would she rest until her cousin assured her that the 
letter had been written and despatched. 

But two days later, as she lay in her bed and looked 
out of the open window across the sea, she prayed that 
death would hasten his steps, and thanked God the 
while that Robert Saul was not there to see her tor- 
ture of soul and body. For that was the awful truth. 
Longing for the release of death, her soul was yet so 
torn by doubt and fear, that at one moment she would 
cry to her God to delay the dread visitant, and the 
next her teeth would meet in deadly pain, while the 
dew of agony stood upon her brow and a voiceless cry 
for deep oblivion would hold her silent and almost still 
the beating of her heart. 

The nurse asked gently if she could do anything 
for her, but she paid no heed to the soft enquiry. She 
looked out upon the bright blue of the sky and the 
deeper blue of the sea and saw that, where the sun 
kissed the wavelets into smiling beauty, the waters 
gleamed with white and gold. The brightness of the 
scene, all eloquent of radiant life, seemed to mock her 
prisoned limbs, and the living death which bound her 
where she lay denied all peace to tortured body and 
troubled mind. 

Lady Margaret Courcy, rent asunder by her desire 
to know the girl at rest and her innumerable doubts 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


143 


as to whether rest did indeed await her beyond the 
grave, had but scant comfort to offer. Too true to 
voice that which she did not fully believe, she was 
thus forced into a desperate silence as, all through that 
terrible day, she and Miss Beresford sat by the sick 
girl’s side. 

At last the day is almost done: a shadow slants 
across the wide terrace below, while the setting sun 
sinks down amid a wealth of crimson, green and gold. 
The sea, and sky, and distant mountain peak are 
flooded with a glorious light beyond the pen of man 
to paint, till suddenly! the heavens and the earth are 
drenched in blood, as the roseate of the sky takes on 
a purple hue and a sanguinary shadow creeps over 
the sea, thus turning its gold to a deep-toned glow. 
And now the wavelets seem to leap in pain, for slowly 
across the moving bosom of the flaming deep there 
steals a harsh whisper of woe, as the sea uprises to 
slay. Hark! to the shrill laughter of wind kissing 
wave, as they meet in unholy wedlock! Swift heralds 
of death and of hell, they but wed as the harlot doth 
wed, to couple and speed on, to riot and to die. See! 
deep darkness falls upon the earth, as the heavens are 
canopied in sudden cloud ! 

With cruel dread within each heart and fear made 
manifest upon each face, the silent watchers turn to 
see a look of speechless horror in the stricken woman’s 
e y es — eyes which now shine dully, like twin fires burn- 
ing within the shadow of a wild, white face, all be- 
clouded, all befouled, by the fearsome fear of a living 
death. 

Unable any longer to bear the sight of suffering, 


144* THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


which she could not mitigate and which months ago 
the most powerful opiates had almost failed to re- 
lieve, Margaret Courcy left her cousin in the care of 
Miss Beresford and the nurse and watched the long 
night through in solitude. But even there, though 
room and corridor divided them, faint moans still 
reached her, and she knew that Cecil was being 
dragged across the rack by the devilish power of pain. 
Fleeing before the piteous sound, she threw open her 
window and stood upon the balcony without. 

“ Dear God ! ” she cried aloud, “ have pity and send 
her peace! Oh, Death! come quickly and give her 
rest ! 99 But even as her heart sent forth the cry, a 
strange new thought checked a repetition of the words 
and held her dumb. Shocked beyond measure, she 
asked herself, what had she done? What was it, that 
suddenly she seemed to herself to be? Surely, in 
thought she had been guilty of the great offence! 
Surely, she must in secret brand herself with the brand 
of Cain! 

Moved by a rapid and strong revulsion of feeling, 
she threw herself upon her knees and prayed a wordless 
prayer — a prayer mighty in its desperate desire, and 
strong in the strength of its new-born hope. Now, 
as she knelt and prayed, the storm without became a 
holy calm, and from the vast dome above the gentle 
beams of a sickle moon shed softest light upon earth 
and sea; while impotent matter, its vain babblings all 
hushed, lay quiet and quelled by Harmony’s breath, 
thus heeding, as ever earth must, Mind’s heavenly law 
of, “ Peace be still ! ” 

Hour after hour Margaret Courcy knelt there, her 
face upheld towards the quiet sky, the wealth of her 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


145 


hair and the white of her robe bathed in purest light. 
Nor did she move when the morning’s breeze came over 
the sea and gently raised the dark tendrils off her brow, 
as it wound its way caressingly about her form. 

As the dawn rose into day, her thought grew fixed 
to God and Life, till her soul was possessed by a great 
desire, and a strange new peace controlled her mind. 
Then, as the brilliant sun arose, her heart uplifted 
with a heaven-sent prayer, and she asked, in the silence 
of a wondrous hope, that Cecil should live, — live, and 
somehow overcome the demon pain ; live, and somehow 
rise above the thraldom of the flesh into newness of life 
with God. 

While Margaret Courcy was keeping her lonely vigil 
throughout the night, Cecil Gwynne lay in the grip 
of a deadly terror, worse by far than the fear of 
death. 44 I shall go mad ! ” she cried in her heart. 
44 1 shall go mad, if they do not stop this pain ! ” And 
now it seemed that two people whispered by her side ! 
The one — her dress was made of glass, her apron of 
white paper, and her nurse’s cap was tall and brown 
and made, it seemed, of cork ; and across her breast was 
written, in letters large and black and clear, 44 The 
DRAUGHT ! ” The other woman, once beautiful, but 
twisted now and torn by pain, lay prostrate on the bed 
beside her. Now, that one all made of glass, bent 
over that prostrate form and spoke soft words of un- 
conscious blasphemy. 44 Drink of me, and 4 1 ’ will give 
you rest ! ” 

44 Rest ! ” the woman wailed in piteous bewilderment. 
44 Rest ! tell me what is rest ? I have forgotten ! ” 

44 Rest,” and the one of glass bent low beside her; 
44 oh, rest,” she said, 44 is sleep, forgetfulness of pain.” 


146 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


“ You never gave me that” the other moaned, “ for 
always the devil pain haunts my every dream ! ” 

And now the one of glass bent lower still and turn- 
ing whispered subtle falsity within the woman’s ear. 

“ Drink ! ” the whisper seemed to fill the air. “ Drink 
deeper, deeper yet, and I will give you perfect rest from 
pain — deep oblivion, see ! ” and a hand all cold and 
white and fleshless, made of glass — or was it of dead 
men’s bones? — shot out and pointed to the nurse’s 
chair. “ See, she sleeps ! and she forgot to measure me 
to-night ! See ! I am tall and full of that which will 
still your pain forever and forever! Kiss me, kiss me 
long ; and kissing, drink of me ! ” 

The woman raised her hand to take the cap from off 
the other’s head, when Cecil turned, and turning saw 
that prostrate woman’s face. Was it her own, this 
ghastly thing beside her — this white wan shadow of the 
past, torn by pain and twisted into knotted nerves? 
Is this the face of Cecil Gwynne? God’s pity! was 
she mad? or was this truly Cecil Gwynne? She tried to 
shout aloud, but her lips were sealed, it seemed! She 
tried to flee the horrid sight, but her limbs were bound, 
it seemed! Bound! and were these grave clothes that 
wound her round and round? Prisoned, helpless, hope- 
less — almost mad. . . . She lay there muttering 

in the agony of wild delirium! 

And now another form crept up to her, and pitying 
eyes looked into hers — the face was the face of Robert 
Saul, but the form was the form of Death ! “ Drink ! ” 
and the voice was the voice of Robert Saul, but the 
hand held out was the hand of Death. 

“ Drink, beloved, drink, for I cannot bear to see your 
pain.” Ah — a — a ! Whence came that mocking 


147 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

laughter that raced its way around her bed? or was 
it her own wild cry for peace? 

“ P — a — i — n,” she muttered, “ P — a — i — n ! ” And 
now the mocking laughter ceased, for a new form stood 
beside her bed. New! ah, no! She had seen it oft be- 
fore, for was she not wedded to its vileness, forever and 
forever, even until death should them part? A phan- 
tom form, its garments made of woe! And across its 
heart, the signet of despair. She knew it, this phantom 
form, and knew its name was AGONY! And now it 
bent beside the bed, and pressed a drill upon her brow 
and wound it round and round again, right through 
the temple and the bone; right through the nerve it 
bored its hellish way, and still the phantom wound it 
round and on. There! it was fixed and firm, and now 
it took a white-hot wire and bound it tightly round 
her spine and left that there. . . . And still she 

lived , and still the nurse slept on! . . . And now 

he took her in his arms, this phantom form, and nailed 
her on a cross all made of pain ; “ To bring you 
nearer,” he whispered softly, “ to your God ! ” 

“ Ah — a — a ! ” she said through silent lips, “ the 
way to Heaven is surely paved with hell and seems to 
darken all my thought of God ! ” 

And still she lived! . . . And still the nurse 

slept on! 

Ha! she knew a way, fool! thrice fool! not to have 
taken it before ! — that precipice, of which her maid had 
spoken upon a summer day! That precipice! so high 
above, so deep below, that none could hope to live who 
leaped from off the brink. Now! now while the nurse 
still slept , she would be up and doing! But softly, 
silently, or she would be caught and nailed upon the 


148 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


cross again. Hush! the nurse stirred! No matter, she 
would hasten and be done, she' would flee, quicker! 
quicker! than any could pursue! Now rushing torrents 
roared above her head and cruel monsters of the deep 
dragged her below the wildly raging waves ; and now 
the nurse — or was it some great sea serpent? — bound 
her round and round with giant cords of fantastic slimy 
growth. But why were they white, like grave clothes? 
or was it the sheets upon her bed? Why were they 
red like bands all made of fire? why? . . . Ah! 

. . . now the end! 

But . . . Margaret was calling to her! Mar- 

garet was parting the waters above her head, and now 
. . . they roared no longer, but lapped softly, 

softly upon a sunny beach. Dear God ! she was at rest 
at last, for Margaret’s strong arms were round her 
limbs, and Margaret’s soft hand guided her head and 
gently pillowed it upon her breast ; and Margaret’s 
voice was calling to her, calling softly, sweetly, as the 
wild dove cooing calls to its mate in early spring. And 
now a voice — was it the voice of Margaret? — sang a 
solemn chant from the days of long ago. 

“ Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto 
you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let 
not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” 

When came this great and holy calm? Was it born 
of the song which Margaret Courcy sang? 

“ Soft and low, sweet and clear. 

Love’s message rose and fell upon the air.” 

Whence came this sweet sense of rest that stole into 
her heart and chased the earth-clouds all away? 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


149 


She did not know; she did not seek to know; she 
was content to rest, with this sweet angel nestling 
like a gentle dove upon her breast and loosening, with 
its touch divine, the fetters which bound her limbs in 
hell. 

“ Soft and low, sweet and clear. 

Love’s message rose and swelled upon the air.” 

And now she slept, and sleeping smiled, as does a 
healthy child upon its mother’s breast. 

The Lady Margaret Courcy rose and looked upon 
her cousin’s face, and looking, wondered at its joy. 
Then walking, as one walks upon the long untrodden 
way, she passed from room to room, then up a steep 
and narrow stair and outwards through an arched stone 
door, until she stood beneath the open sky. Whence, 
she asked, had come this wondrous calm? As some 
sweet echo from the past steals into the heart of one 
to whom the future has for long been blank, and fills it 
with the fragrance of a long-forgotten joy, she had 
heard the words she sang, as they fell upon the air; 
but she had not felt their advent nor voiced them con- 
sciously ; nor did she yet fully understand from whence 
they came nor know that they had lain dormant 
throughout the weary years, until the time of God’s 
appointing. Long ago she had homed within her heart 
a tiny seed. Now, though she knew it not, the rain 
had fallen, the sun had shone, and lo! — the flower 
stood revealed ! 

There are words, the overflowing rhythm of an 
eternal harmony, which, seeming to strike roughly 
upon the unready ear, there rouse discordant thought 
to active self-assertion, till it cries aloud, “ It thun- 


150 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


ders.” Yet the self-same word, at the self-same hour, 
will sweep softly across the waiting heart, and touch 
it to a strange new strength, waking sweet memories in 
the receptive mind, attuned to Truth’s heavenly call by 
holy thought and high desire. Thus it was with Mar- 
garet Courcy now. She had long been journeying 
towards that “ open door ” which no man can shut, 
and now she stood waiting before Truth’s heavenly 
portal. In time will come to her the further call, and 
then shall she pass on into that city which “ lieth four- 
square ” — that city which hath “ no need of the sun, 
neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of 
God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.” 
And those who tread its streets of gold learn that 
within these walls there is no night. This New Jeru- 
salem ! What is it but a high, wide plane of thought — 
that “ holy ground ” upon which man must stand to 
meet his God, ere he can commune with eternal Good? 
That fair broad city set upon a hill! Surely the 
measure of it, is measureless Infinity : surely the fulness 
thereof, is the substance of Immortal Mind, while Love 
alone is King! 




CHAPTER XVI 


NEWNESS OF LIFE 

Ring out old shapes of foul disease, 

Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; 

Ring out the thousand wars of old, 

Ring in the thousand years of peace. 

Ring in the valiant man and free, 

The eager heart, the kindlier hand; 

Ring out the darkness of the land, 

Ring in the Christ that is to be. 

— Tinnyson. 

Three weeks had passed since that morning upon 
which Lady Cecil Gwynne had found sudden relief 
from the pain which had haunted her life for so long. 
Three wonderful weeks! For during that short space 
of time she rose above the sickness which had seemed 
to her to be worse than death, and entered into the 
exultation of new-found health and strength. 

To-day, she sat in the garden under the shade of a 
beautiful pergola, over which grew a luxuriant cover 
of creeping roses, now in full bloom. The Duchess 
of Westmoreland was beside her and spoke of many 
things which sounded strange indeed to her ear, but 
brought great peace to her heart. 

“ As you know,” the Duchess said, “ your brother 
was with us in London when Lady Margaret’s letter, 
asking him to obtain Christian Science treatment for 
you, arrived. He told us that you had asked him to 
do so once before, but that his own prejudice against 
151 


152 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


it was very strong. He had heard that it was through 
the help of Christian Science that my husband’s life 
was saved some years ago, but he had not believed it 
and had no idea that we had become workers in the 
Cause. After a long talk with my husband, however, 
he immediately put your case into the hands of a 
practitioner. We were of course able to direct him 
to the proper quarter in London, and we were not at 
all surprised when he received Lady Margaret’s good 
news a few days later. I do not think, however, that 
he quite believed it until he actually saw you sitting 
out here upon our arrival.” 

Lady Cecil’s face was very grave, but the hopeless 
look of sorrow was gone from her eyes, and the sickly 
hue of her skin was yielding to a warmer tint. 

“ It seems almost too wonderful,” she said softly ; 
then added firmly, “ but I know that it is true.” 

“ Yes, it is true ; ” her friend answered, “ I am sure 
of that. My husband’s life was, as I have told you, 
quickly saved by Christian Science, but the disease 
was not eliminated without a steady fight against the 
false beliefs which had caused it — a fight which has 
left us both higher than we ever hoped to stand, before 
we studied this most practical religion.” 

And so they talked, and the minutes sped on; and 
Cecil never wearied; but now listening, now question- 
ing her friend, she drank in this glorious gospel of de- 
liverance with its promise of redemption from sin, sick- 
ness and death. 

Upon the terrace above Lady Margaret walked in 
quiet converse with the Duke. More calmly she lis- 
tened, as he poured into her waiting ear the new-old 
story of faith passed into sight. 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


153 


At last she paused and said in a voice held low by 
the greatness of the thought which ruled her ; 

66 1 thank you, Duke ; I know that this of which you 
speak to me is indeed the Truth, and I thank you. 
You have given me back my dead, but, oh! trans- 
formed beyond my highest hopes of heaven. For how 
feeble was my youthful conception, or rather miscon- 
ception, of the Truth! I see that I had to loose my 
hold of that , before I could search clearly for the Christ ; 
and how glorious is the Christ which you now reveal 
to me! I have carefully studied the book you sent to 
us day and night. 6 Science and Health ’* is truly a 
‘Key to the Scriptures ’! Now with Paul I can say, 
‘ I count not myself to have apprehended : but this one 
thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, 
and reaching forth unto those things which are before, 
I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling 
of God in Christ Jesus. 5 ” 

“ It is useful to note how constantly and how boldly 
Paul strikes the note of progress,” the Duke an- 
swered. “ It is the law which all must, sooner or 
later, obey; but it is strange how reluctant many are 
to obey it, dissatisfied though they are with life as 
they find it. Once again the healing Christ comes to 
his own, and once again his own receive him not; but 
it cannot long continue thus. Man is satiated with 
sin, sorrow, sickness and death, and the time approaches 
when the human mind will react — for what is it but a 
pendulum? — and demand a change. But the misery 
of mortal man has yet to reach its height and depth! 
Harmony here on earth, here and now , awaits those 

*“ Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures,” by Mary 
Baker G. Eddy. 


154 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


who, having ears, will hear — the harmony of a healthy 
mind and healthy body; the harmony of sin forgiven, 
because destroyed; the harmony of the one Mind and 
Man as the reflection of that one Mind. Paul’s words 
are to-day being proved by thousands of happy people 
to be literally true ; 4 But we all, with open face be- 
holding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed 
into the same image from glory to glory, even as by 
the Spirit of the Lord.’ And what are these words ex- 
cept an echo of those spoken of man 6 in the beginning,’ 
when God said, 4 Let us make man in our image, after 
our likeness ’ ? In a measure — a measure which is in 
exact ratio to the individual understanding of omni- 
present Good — man’s spiritual reality is demonstrated 
daily in Christian Science.” 

44 1 understand,” Lady Margaret replied thought- 
fully. 44 In Christian Science you regard Man as the 
perfect work of a perfect God; you regard him as 
spiritual and unfallen; in fact, as the reflection of his 
Principle — God.” 

44 Certainly,” the Duke answered gravely ; 44 for we 
worship a God of good and good alone; a God who 
thinks no evil and could never have created it, and we 
read, 4 1 know that, whatsoever God doeth, it shall be 
for ever: nothing can be put to it, nor any thing taken 
from it: . . . That which hath been is now.’ If 

we believe the Bible at all, we must believe that all which 
God, Good, created is eternally good.” 

44 It is a beautiful thought,” his companion an- 
swered; and her face was full of joy as she turned and 
led the way to the pergola under which Lady Cecil 
still sat. 

And as the days passed, Cecil Gwynne grew more 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


155 


calm and strong until she appeared to her cousin to 
be not only her old self again, but better. She grew 
gradually more loving and more thoughtful for those 
around her than she had been even in the past. Soon 
they began to talk of returning to England, for Lord 
Brecon needed his sister’s help in London, and it 
seemed wonderful to Lady Cecil to think that she could 
actually be of use in the world once more, instead of 
only a burden and constant care to those who loved her. 
Her cure was not yet complete, for she had lain too 
long imprisoned by pain, and had thus formed a regu- 
lar habit of egotistical thought which did not imme- 
diately yield to the first call of Truth. But slowly and 
surely the renewal of the mind went on beneath the 
transforming touch of Love, and quite steadily the 
body responded to the awakening thought. Not in a 
moment, however, can the “ old man ” be cast off, and 
yet cast off it must be, ere the “ new man ” can be mani- 
fested. Gradually, for lack of that nourishment which 
the laws of invalidism supply to the “ natural man,” 
old things began to pass away, for the law of Good 
was at work making “ all things new.” Gradually, 
in the place of petulance patience reigned; and where 
excitement formerly held sway, the calm of God more 
often ruled her life. Thus, as the sere leaf falls off for 
lack of food, and the spring growth is manifested in 
all the joy of its new-born strength, there began for 
Cecil Gwynne the first real springtime of her life — a 
spring which shall, in the fulness of time, pass on into 
that eternal summer wherein the leaf shall never fade 
nor the tree be for one moment fruitless. 


CHAPTER XVII 


EBB AND FLOW 

We are ne’er like angels till our passion dies. 

— Thomas Dekker. 

44 And when,” said Mr. Saul, 44 shall we be married? ” 

Lady Cecil Gwynne threw a warning glance around. 

44 There are,” she said, 44 quite a hundred people in 
the room.” 

44 1 am aware of it,” Robert Saul answered, rather 
grimly. 

44 See, Robert,” Cecil spoke in a low voice, and 
quickly, 44 we will be married as soon as ever you wish 
it, after you have heard that which I have to tell you.” 

For an instant Mr. Saul’s thought flashed uneasily 
back over the past year. 

44 What,” he asked, 44 can you possibly have to tell 
me that could hinder our marriage? ” 

44 Cecil ! ” Lady Margaret Courcy touched her 
cousin upon the arm, 44 Brecon is looking for you ; I 
believe that people are thinking of saying 4 Good- 
bye.’ ” 

A look of relief lighted up Mr. Saul’s face, as he 
saw guest after guest shake hands with their host and 
hostess. 

44 At last ! ” he said to Lady Margaret, 44 1 shall be 
able to talk to her. I have come over four thousand 
156 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 157 

miles on purpose, you know;” and he smiled im- 
patiently. 

“ I am very much afraid,” Lady Margaret said 
gently, 44 that you will not be able to see my cousin 
alone to-night. There are rather exalted guests stay- 
ing in the house, and she is really never free. You 
doubtless saw Lord Brecon’s appointment in the papers. 
Just now, when London is full of the nation’s guests, 
neither he nor Cecil have a moment to call their own.” 

44 And when,” Mr. Saul demanded, 44 does England 
empty of these foreigners ? ” 

44 Some time next week,” Lady Margaret answered 
as she moved towards a departing friend. 

Did Lady Margaret Courcy seriously suppose, Mr. 
Saul asked himself, that he would contemplate waiting 
a whole week for an hour’s conversation with Cecil 
Gwynne ? 

His year of roving in Central Africa had cut him 
free, in thought at least, from the chains of conven- 
tional society, and he was for the moment inclined to 
dispute its claims. 

Five minutes later he stood before Cecil. 44 1 will 
call,” he said distinctly, 44 at eleven o’clock to-morrow 
if that is not too early for you.” 

There was that in his manner which drew attention 
and brought a flush to Lady Cecil’s cheek. 

Instantly Lord Brecon broke the little silence. 
44 Look in,” he said, 44 at luncheon ; we are more often 
at home then than at any other time.” 

Mr. Saul, sore and irritated at his own mistake, took 
a hasty farewell and left the house feeling both angry 
and hurt. Certainly, he decided, he would not make an 
item at luncheon in Grosvenor Square the next day. 


158 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


He wished to see Lady Cecil alone, not again among a 
crowd — a number of strangers whose interests were 
matters of no moment to him. He had reached Eng- 
land only that afternoon, and, after a hurried dinner 
upon his arrival in London, had dressed and at once 
gone round to Grosvenor Square. With no anticipa- 
tion of seeing Cecil, for the hour was late, he had still 
hoped to find the Earl in his library, and to have thus 
obtained some news of her — news for which he had 
hungered for a year. His surprise was great when he 
reached Lord Brecon’s house to see lights streaming 
from every window. The sound of music proceeding 
from the drawing-room told him that a reception was 
being held. He had, however, heard of Lord Brecon’s 
appointment at the Foreign Office and concluded that, 
in spite of his sister’s ill-health, he was obliged to 
entertain. No doubt Miss Beresford or Lady Mar- 
garet Courcy had taken her place as hostess. 

When he entered the ballroom a few minutes later 
and saw what appeared to him to be Cecil Gwynne 
waltzing to the soft strains of a string band, his as- 
tonishment stayed his foot upon the threshold and 
riveted his gaze upon her. That Cecil was somewhere 
upstairs, either in bed or, at best, upon her couch, he 
never doubted. In all his life, however, he had never 
seen two people so much alike as was the girl before 
him to the woman whom he loved. Like, and yet un- 
like ! for looking more intently at her Robert told him- 
self that the dancer was younger and more beautiful 
than Cecil. There was also something in this woman’s 
face which he had never seen in the face of Cecil 
Gwynne. Just what this something was he could not 
define, but he was distinctly conscious of its presence. 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


159 


His direct gaze drew Lady Cecil’s attention, and 
immediately she crossed the room, and held out a wel- 
coming hand. 

“ Then you got my letter,” she said. “ I was afraid 
that it might just miss you in Angola.” 

“Your letter?” Mr. Saul repeated stupidly; “I 
don’t understand.” 

“ Evidently you did not get it, and that is why you 
do not understand,” Lady Cecil replied. “ Never 
mind! you are in England again and ” 

“ It is not possible,” Mr. Saul said, with slow ut- 
terance, “ that you can be Cecil Gwynne ! ” 

A bright smile lit up the girl’s face. “ Yes,” she 
answered softly. “ My letter would have explained 
the — the sudden resurrection which so astounds you, 
but evidently you missed it.” 

“ I missed several of my letters while travelling in- 
land : the postal arrangements are most uncertain, 
and of course I did not expect to hear from you,” Mr. 
Saul answered. 

But he hardly knew what he said; he was only con- 
scious of Cecil’s presence by his side. 

“ Robert,” Cecil spoke gently, “ we must have a 
quiet talk as soon as possible. I will come to you the 
moment that I can get free.” 

An hour later she had joined him, but only for five 
minutes; and now, as he walked homeward, Mr. Saul 
was swayed by strong emotion, and his feelings were 
so mixed that he found it difficult to review the last 
few hours calmly. 

At one moment his heart glowed with the thought 
that Cecil was well again; the next, his jealous nature 
ruled him, and he declared that she no longer loved 


160 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


him, for surely she could have made an opportunity, 
had she really desired one, for a quiet conversation 
with him. Through all his perturbed thought there 
ran an irritating consciousness of something of which 
he was fully sensible, though he could not under- 
stand it — an indefinable change in Cecil, to which he 
could give no name. 

He went straight to his room and wrote a long 
letter to her. He would not read it over, for he was 
not sure that he should send it if he did. He was 
perfectly aware that it was an unreasonable letter. 
He was, absurdly enough, angry with himself for 
writing it and yet obstinately determined to send it. 
Because he was suffering, he acted unfairly both to- 
wards himself and Cecil Gwynne. He was too clear- 
headed not to know that he was so acting, but, for 
the moment, he allowed himself, strong man though 
he was, to be controlled by wayward impulse. That 
the letter expressed a passionate exacting frame of 
mind, he did not fully realise and would by no means 
have admitted, even to himself. After posting it, 
however, he wished that he could recall every word 
that it contained. Indeed, never before had he spent 
such a mauvais quart d’heure as that which he en- 
dured while awaiting Lady Cecil’s reply the next morn- 
ing. Would she answer at all, or if she did, would 
her answer be such as he could bear to receive from 
her? He spent an aimless morning walking through 
the Park and Kensington Gardens, and twice he turned 
his steps towards Grosvenor Square, but decided that 
it would be both unadvisable and useless to precipitate 
matters in any way. The truth was, he suddenly 
realised that he never had had complete control over 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 161 

himself in the matter of his love for Lady Cecil 
Gwynne, and he dared not risk an interview until he 
felt that he could hold himself completely in hand. 

It was one o’clock as he reached his hotel, and he 
knew that an answer to his letter, if despatched by re- 
turn, should be awaiting him. But it was not until 
he found that there were no letters at all for him that 
he understood how much he had counted upon Cecil’s 
immediate reply. At luncheon an old acquaintance 
hailed him, and moved his seat in order that they might 
be at the same table. Mr. Saul wished that he had 
ordered a meal in a private room, for he felt in no 
mood for casual conversation. He answered his friend’s 
good-natured enquiries about his year in Central 
Africa so lamely that the Rev. Arthur Northcut not 
unnaturally summarised the situation, when speaking 
to a mutual acquaintance, by the terse remark, “ The 
wretched climate has ruined him; he has lost all his 
vigour.” 

By seven o’clock Mr. Saul could wait no longer; 
he would surely find Cecil at home just before the 
dinner hour. He must know whether she still cared 
for him or not. The possibility that her renewed 
strength might have brought with it some change in 
her love, weighed upon his mind, though he swore to 
himself that such a thing could not be. He had been 
so faithful to her during her dark hours, and she 
had, he knew, so noble a nature that it was not possible 
that she should esteem his devotion lightly, now that 
the sun once more shone. His love had been to her an 
unfailing ray of light through her long night of pain 
and weakness, and certainly could not be forgotten 
now. 


162 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


“ Her ladyship has just driven out,” the footman 
said in answer to his enquiry. 

“ When is she expected to return ? ” he asked, with 
that outward calm which never failed him in the pres- 
ence of his inferiors. 

“ 1 will enquire, sir ; ” the man answered, and a sec- 
ond servant came forward. “ Her ladyship,” he said, 
“ has ordered the carriage to be at Marlborough House 
at half-past ten.” 

Sick at heart, Mr. Saul turned away. “ Surely,” 
he muttered bitterly, “ surely she could have found 
time, however exacting her social engagements may 
be, to write me one line ! ” 

He walked slowly back to his hotel, but his revul- 
sion of feeling was so great, his disappointment at 
missing Lady Cecil so keen, that, though he found 
himself glancing towards the office as he passed through 
the hall, he would not ask if any letters had arrived 
for him during his absence. A third disappointment 
was more than he felt prepared to meet. He felt 
quite worn out as he mounted the stairs on the way 
to his bedroom, and wearily concluded that the last 
attack of malaria which had caught him just as he 
left Angola must have weakened him more than he 
thought. 

“ A letter for you, sir ! ” 

Mr. Saul turned abruptly and took the note which 
the office boy, who had quietly followed him up the 
stairs, held out to him. 

“ Thanks.” 

The bedroom door was shut and locked hastily. 
This Robert Saul gave himself time to do, before he 
tore open the seal. He looked at the first line, then, 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 163 

with hands which trembled in spite of the strong will 
which would have had them still, he rapidly turned the 
letter about and raced his eye to the bottom of the 
last page. 

“ Thank God ! 99 he muttered brokenly. “ How 
could I doubt her! I never will again. Nothing, not 
even a thought, shall ever come between us again.” 
Then, still a little shaken by the emotion which ruled 
him so completely, he read the letter through. It 
was very short, but showed no sign of haste, and the 
writing was bolder and firmer than any he had ever 
seen by Cecil’s hand since the early days of their en- 
gagement. 

“ I simply have not one hour,” she wrote, “ to call 
my own, until next week; but on Tuesday our guests 
start for the Continent and I shall be free. Come 
at eleven o’clock, but of course I shall keep the whole 
day for you.” 

He was a little disappointed to realise that it was 
a letter such as might have been read by anyone, but 
no ! the signature told him many things of which Cecil 
would never have spoken to another, for she signed 
herself, “ Lovingly your love — The little Lady Cecil.” 
Immediately he w T as back in the early days of their 
courtship — days when it had been new to him to walk 
beside her slender form, and during which he had once 
told her that “ the little Lady Cecil was altogether 
too young and too small to have such a strong will 
of her own.” 

Robert was ashamed now to remember the miserable 
jealousy and self-inflicted torture which he had en- 
dured for so many hours. His imaginary fears and 
doubts did neither Cecil nor himself any justice, as 


164i THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


he realised fully enough now that he reviewed the mat- 
ter calmly. Well, it was over: and he put the little 
note in his pocket-book and said that he would wait 
as Jacob waited for Rachel if need be, but never again 
would he allow a cloud to come between him and 
Cecil Gwynne. Nevertheless, he hoped that the next 
week would find their wedding day winging its way 
towards them, and he determined to leave no stone un- 
turned to bring about their speedy marriage. 

The week of waiting passed quickly in spite of 
some rebellious moments, during which Mr. Saul looked 
askance at the festivities which kept him from Lady 
Cecil’s side. They met, of course, but only in the 
presence of others, and upon the whole Robert pre- 
ferred his solitary rambles in the Parks, illumined as 
his thought was with bright hopes for the future. 
For was not Cecil stronger and better in health? Yes , 
and sweeter and gentler in manner than ever he had 
known her. Thus his mental horizon was cloudless 
and lighted with the anticipation of a greater joy than 
he had dreamed life could ever hold for him again. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


HUMAN LIMITATIONS 

Remember, when the judgment’s weak, the prejudice is strong. 

— O’Hara. 

Mr. Saul ran lightly down the steps of a certain 
well-known house in Arlington Street. His interview 
with one of His Majesty’s Ministers had been very 
pleasing, for he had that morning been told that his 
name was mentioned for preferment in the Church. 
That he owed this, in a great measure, to the fact 
that a warm friendship had existed for half a lifetime 
between his own father and the Minister in question 
he was perfectly aware, but he did both this dis- 
tinguished member of th£ Cabinet and himself the 
justice to believe that this fact alone would not have 
had the necessary weight, had it not been linked to 
the high reputation which he himself undoubtedly 
bore. He could not be unaware of his remarkable 
popularity as a preacher, and he knew also that he 
was considered one of the most beautiful readers in 
the English Church. Crowded congregations every 
Sunday and laudatory articles in the papers had, 
before he left England for Central Africa, pointed to 
the probability of his rapid advancement. He had 
not expected, however, to be offered a bishopric so 
soon, and it was particularly pleasing to him that he 
165 


166 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


should receive the intimation of this honour upon the 
day of his first real talk with Cecil Gwynne. He quite 
intended before the day was much older finally to de- 
cide upon the date of their marriage ; and he further 
intended, unless Cecil had some very good reason to 
the contrary (and he did not for a moment suppose 
that such could be the case), that their marriage 
should take place almost immediately. 

He was a little surprised to hear, when he reached 
Grosvenor Square, that her ladyship had not returned 
from Victoria Station, where she had driven in attend- 
ance upon the Princess. 

44 1 will wait,” he told the servant, and the man 
immediately turned and led the way upstairs. 

Left alone, Mr. Saul glanced appreciatively round 
the beautiful drawing-room. The conservatory at the 
further end was filled with a mass of bright flowers ; 
then turning, the eye was refreshed by the cool green 
of the carpet, and the delicate white and gold of the 
panelled walls. Groups of Cecil’s favourite maiden- 
hair ferns filled the deep concavity between the white 
pillars which supported the high mantelpiece, and in 
their midst a tiny fountain played. With a sigh of 
content Mr. Saul lifted one of the silk window cur- 
tains aside and stepped out upon the balcony. What 
a contrast to the cool and quiet of the room within! 
A London balcony upon a hot June morning, and the 
noise of a pleasure-seeking world all around! Very 
soon he retraced his steps, for he had seen Lady Cecil’s 
motor turning the corner of the street. She had kept 
him waiting a whole week for this interview! She 
should not find him too complete a suppliant, watching 
as a little child watches for the mother whose coming 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


167 


is delayed. He would stand here by the further door, 
and she should come that short distance across the 
room to meet him! For had she not kept him waiting 
even to-day? 

Presently the door opened, and Cecil was before 
him. Robert drew in his breath sharply, as the girl 
stood there quite still. Dainty and beautiful, gowned 
in cloth of palest lilac, which swept its way in clinging 
folds about her form as though it loved to touch her, 
she seemed a perfect part of a perfect whole, in abso- 
lute harmony with her surroundings, which immediately 
assumed their proper value, as does the background 
of a picture truly painted. 

44 Look,” she said, and she held up a great bunch of 
white lilac. 44 See how fresh and cool the petals are, 
even though the day is hot.” 

She lifted the flowers high and smiled with eyes and 
lips as she leant a little forward. 

But she did not come one step towards him. 

And he would not move. 

“ She shall come the length of the room to meet 
me,” he whispered ; while the laughter shone in his eyes, 
and his lips pressed tightly the one upon the other; 
64 she shall come the whole length of the room,” he 
breathed, 44 even if I must wait a little longer.” 

But he had much ado to stay his stride, for he hun- 
gered to imprison the brightness and the joy before 
him within a strong embrace. 

His hand shot out and held the door behind him; 
but he did not move. 

44 Smell them,” she said, 44 they are sweet and deli- 
cious, though they have travelled from the North,” 
and she held her flowers higher. 


168 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


“ Sweet and delicious.” The words possessed him 
and . . . 

“ Cecil ! ” he cried, and his voice shook upon the 
word, “ Cecil, I believe I have waited all my life for 
this!” 

He did not mean to be rough — he had never in his 
life been anything but gentle with a woman — nor was 
he now, yet the girl trembled in his arms and turned 
white beneath his lips ; “ Robert ! ” she cried, “ wait, 
oh, wait ! I have so much to tell you ! ” 

“ So much ! beloved, so much ! ” he answered, “ for 
it is a year and a week since we have spoken together ! ” 
And now he knelt and placed his arms about her. 

“ Little Lady Cecil,” he said in a voice that was 
of itself a caress, “ tell me that you love me.” 

“ Robert, you A mow” 

“ Dear heart,” he answered gently. “ 1 know , yet 
tell me.” 

Then, as she did not answer, he gravely took her 
face between his hands and asked upon what day she 
would become his wife. And still she did not answer, 
though he lifted his head and silently asked a herald 
of that day. But she did not give it ; and Robert, 
chilled, rose and asked her rather formally, where she 
would be seated. 

Then at last she answered him, but slowly, as though 
it was not easy. 

“We will be married at once, if you still wish it — 
after we have talked together.” 

“ If I still wish it, Cecil? For years I have wished 
it! Do you dream, silly little one, that there is any- 
thing which you could tell me, that could possibly 
alter a wish that has grown with my mental growth, 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


109 


until it is part of my inner self? ” He spoke pas- 
sionately again, and stood eagerly by her side, impa- 
tient for his answer. 

But Cecil Gwynne did not immediately reply. In- 
stead, she walked slowly into the conservatory and 
stood there for so long a time and so still, handling 
with an evidently unconscious touch a spray of ste- 
phanotis, that Robert Saul followed her at last and 
passed her by ; then turning, he stood face to face with 
her. 

“ There 5s something that I do not understand, 
which has come between you and me,” he said. 

He spoke quietly; but he was aware that to stay 
the tremble of his hand, he needed to grasp the lapel 
of his coat, and his musical voice broke harshly upon 
the last word as it left his lips. 

Still Cecil did not answer; and then it was that 
Robert realised that the demon jealousy, which he 
had thought was slain, was lying only dormant in 
his heart; for now it rose up and possessed him; nor 
would it be controlled. 

What he said he did not afterwards remember, but 
suddenly Cecil spoke for the first time since he had 
given his passion rein. 

“ Robert,” she said sternly, “ be silent, and remem- 
ber that to-day I have allowed you to put your lips 
upon my own. That is the only answer you can need 
to your wild question, Do I love you? ” 

Ashamed, he held his peace and was suddenly calm, 
for he knew that, whatever had come between him and 
Cecil Gwynne, it could not be the love of any other 
man. 

“ It is because I love you,” Cecil continued, “ that 


170 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


I find it so difficult to speak about the great change 
that has come into my life of late.” 

44 You mean, little one,” and now Robert spoke 
softly again, and very kindly, 44 your wonderful restor- 
ation to health. But why should it be difficult to 
speak of that to me, my best beloved? You surely 
know that, in all the world, no one can rejoice as I 
rejoice to see you well again.” 

44 That is what Brecon said at first,” Cecil answered 
sadly, 44 now, he sometimes speaks as though he would 
willingly have me back in all that awful pain.” 

Robert’s face wore a look of absolute horror. 

44 Cecil,” he exclaimed, 44 what can you mean ? He 
must be mad! But of course you are under some 
misapprehension — your suffering was terrible to 
Brecon.” 

44 1 know,” she answered sadly, 44 but — well, no doubt 
he will explain his views to you himself ; I will not 
speak of them; for I cannot understand the line he 
takes.” 

Robert Saul took her hand and held it gently. 

44 Little one,” he said, and he drew her towards 
a chair, though he himself remained standing, 44 1 
am puzzled, but I am sure that I can help you.” 

44 You can help me more than anyone in all the 
world,” she answered eagerly, 44 if you will.” 

44 If I will?” he looked astonished. 44 Why, sweet- 
heart, what is there that I will not do for you? ” 

Then she told him. Told him that she was being 
lifted from the darkness of pain and sickness into the 
marvellous light of health and peace; that she was 
already able to help others whom she found, as she 
herself had been found, hopeless and in deepest misery. 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 171 


Told him also that she was learning to love a God 
at hand, who was not a God of good and evil, but 
a God of good and good alone. She told him of the 
Christ, who was now becoming to her an actual reality ; 
and she spoke to him of the vital Christianity which 
had become the motive of her life. 

All this she told him, and much more; and when 
she ceased to speak, when she had said all that she 
then deemed it wise to say, when she had spoken as 
much as she thought she might upon the subject which 
now ruled her life, she raised her eyes and saw before 
her a face of stone! And she read the future 
stretched before them in one glance. 

“ You will of course give up this fad when you 
marry me,” Mr. Saul’s tone was both cold and final. 

66 You do not understand,” she answered brokenly; 
“ you do not know what you are asking.” 

Robert Saul smiled contemptuously. “ My dear 
child, it is you who do not understand. I know all 
about Christian Science. It is merely one more of 
the many sects which have sprung up of late years, 
only it is more pretentious than any other, and, in 
short — a blasphemous creed. Promise me,” he added 
hastily, “ that you will give it up.” 

“ I cannot,” she said, but her face was troubled. 
Robert did not notice this, however, as he poured 
out upon her a flood of passionate protest. She had 
wrecked his life, he told her, and he would far rather 
have seen her dead than a blasphemer. Now they 
must part, for he would not see her again, until she 
wrote and told him that she was prepared to take 
her proper place as a Bishop’s wife. 

“ A Bishop ? ” Lady Cecil asked. 


in THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


“ Yes,” Mr. Saul laughed shortly ; “ I have been 
mentioned for a bishopric. I had meant to tell you, 
but now — it does not matter,” and he turned as 
though to leave her. 

“ Robert,” she pleaded. “ Oh, wait ; surely there 
must be some way out of this ! Help me to find it.” 

“ Of course there is a way ; it only remains for you 
to take it,” he answered roughly. 

“ 1 cannot give up my religion,” she replied gently, 
“ but, Robert, . . . help me to think. Dear, I 

love you ; help me to think ! ” 

“ Your love appears to be of a whimsical kind,” 
he answered bitterly. “ I will not compete with a 
hysterical fad: when it has worn itself out, why — I 
shall be waiting.” 

And he bowed formally and closed the door behind 
him — too angry to realise altogether what he did. 

When half-way down the stairs he stopped suddenly. 
The struggle with wounded pride lasted a full minute ; 
then he turned, and retracing his steps he re-entered 
the drawing-room. Cecil was sitting quietly, as he 
had left her. The calmness of her attitude and the 
reliant look upon her face somehow angered him anew. 

“ Cecil,” he asked harshly, “ if I have seemed rough, 
forgive me. I love you. Once more I ask, will you 
give up this thing? ” 

She rose and stood before him. Almost she smiled; 
the thing he asked of her was so impossible. For 
an interval of time which seemed to Robert a long 
one, they faced one another in silence. Then Cecil 
Gwynne gave her answer in a manner which, though 
it left no doubt of its finality, would have convinced 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 178 

Robert, had he been calm enough to judge her fairly, 
that it was not given easily. 

“ Robert,” she said evenly, 44 ask rather, can I give 
up Christian Science? And I must answer, no; I 
neither can, nor should I dare, to turn back now that 
Truth has called me and bids me follow wherever it 
may lead.” 

“ Truth, child ! ” 

And Robert mocked her in his bitter rage, as turn- 
ing, he left the room without another word. 

Could she have seen the agony in his face as he 
drove home, Cecil would have understood that the 
man’s sense of duty was costing him dear. One week! 
and he might have held her in his arms, his wedded 
wife! Now — Robert shivered from head to foot. He 
had called this thing 44 a fad.” He had essayed to 
treat it as a girl’s weak whim, but the horrible truth 
was patent to him — Cecil intended to adhere to Chris- 
tian Science. She had only said a few words in answer 
to his violent protest, but those few words, he now 
knew, she meant to be final. He felt her self-possession 
as a rebuke, and realised that it was he who had spoken 
angrily; it was he who had occupied a position of 
doubtful dignity: and this made him the more bitter. 
Deeply despondent, he entered his hotel and went 
straight to his own room, remaining there for hours. 


CHAPTER XIX 


SELF-DECEPTION 

’Tis pride, rank pride, and haughtiness of soul; 

I think the Romans call it stoicism. 

— Addison. 

During the weeks that immediately followed his rup- 
ture with Lady Cecil Gwynne, Mr. Saul said to himself 
every day that she would surely write to him, for 
he argued hopefully, that he only needed to give her 
time in order that she might realise that his love was 
more necessary to her than this new interest. He 
deliberately designated her embrace of Christian Science 
as a mere phase, which must pass the more rapidly 
now that she was faced with so momentous a choice. 
Not once did it occur to him that he should alter his 
views. It was unnatural to him to give way, and it 
had become a habit with him to expect others to do 
so instead should an impasse arise. He had always 
regarded women as the weaker sex, mentally as well 
as physically, and it was inconceivable to him that 
any woman should pit herself against him in a matter 
of this sort. Not that Cecil Gwynne was doing any- 
thing of the kind, for though the personal element in 
the affair necessarily presented itself to her, the matter 
was in her eyes far above the mere measuring of swords 
with Robert Saul. But of this he knew nothing, and 
it was therefore not unnatural that, as the weeks passed, 
174 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 175 

and brought no communication from Cecil, he should 
conclude that she had ceased to care for him. 

Over and over again Robert reviewed their inter- 
view. That hour had been fraught with intense pain 
for him. How came it that Cecil had been so calm? 
Did she not feel, even then, the severing of the tie 
which bound them? It seemed that she must have 
support, of which he did not know; or, was it simply 
that she never had loved him as he counted the love 
of man and woman? Fiercely jealous of that which 
he could not understand, perplexed by the intangibility 
of that which had defeated him — and which he dimly 
felt to be his master, though he could find no name for 
it, — he resented Cecil’s calmness and construed it as 
a sign of indifference. Formerly he had read her 
like a book, but, since his return from Central Africa, 
he was distinctly aware that she had acquired an inward 
serenity which puzzled him, for it evaded his attempt 
at mental dissection. With the injustice of a hasty 
nature he now condemned, as heartless, conduct to 
which he could not find the key. He rushed himself 
into a condition of mind unworthy of his clearer judg- 
ment, deciding that Cecil was neither less nor more than 
a coquette — unworthy of the love which he had so gen- 
erously lavished upon her. With an obstinate despera- 
tion, born of the bitter pain and deep humiliation which 
governed him in this matter, he set himself deliberately 
to work to separate his thought from her, and en- 
deavoured to keep steadily before him the probability 
that their future lives would be lived apart. He real- 
ised that they would inevitably meet occasionally in 
the house of some one or other of their mutual acquaint- 
ances, but obviously such chance meetings would be 


176 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


meaningless to them both. That Lady Cecil Gwynne’s 
self-control could be trusted to sustain her safely in 
any such chance meeting he knew. She would talk to 
him at dinner or receive her tea from his hand, should 
the occasion arise, without betraying to a watching 
world, tiptoeing in its curiosity, one single heart-beat. 
And so he sought to resign himself to a future from 
which all the light had fled, and which seemed to hold 
within its years no hint of joy for him; a future so 
bereft of all that made life, in his eyes, seem worth 
the having, that it was strange that he should not have 
unbent somewhat and gone out a little way towards 
the achievement of a mutual understanding. 

But any such course would have been quite foreign 
to his nature, and also, he thought himself to be 
stronger than he really was, and supposed himself to 
be as capable of living without love as were others 
whom he knew. And, all the time, the man’s great 
necessity was to love and to be beloved. Thus a per- 
petual tempest raged within him, and he made very 
little effort to still it but allowed it to drive him whither 
it would. Once, for a pregnant moment, he anchored 
his thought to the year that he had spent in peaceful 
seclusion at St. Anselm and asked himself, should he 
return and take the final vows by which he might still 
govern his life? But he became aware that he now 
quite consciously rebelled against a rule so circum- 
scribed ; and it was then that there formed in his mind 
the determination to spend his life among the stress 
and strain of a needy world. To this determination 
he looked back with gratitude in after years — years 
which saw in Robert Saul the ripening of a more stal- 
wart manhood than ever would have been his, had he 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


177 


returned to St. Anselm’s and allowed himself to be- 
come the tool of the human will and the obedient serv- 
ant of a dogma narrowed by rule and formula. 

But as the days passed into weeks, and still he heard 
nothing from Cecil Gwynne, pride so possessed him 
that he deliberately essayed to efface her altogether 
from his mind, and threw himself energetically into the 
maturing of new plans from which she was necessarily 
excluded. 

As the weeks passed on to months the world grew 
weary of asking the question to which his stern face 
made no reply, and was forced to content itself with 
twenty versions of his story — all incorrect. 


CHAPTER XX 


MENTAL FERMENTATION 

Lead kindly light, amid the encircling gloom, 

Lead Thou me on! 

The night is dark, and I am far from home — 

Lead Thou me on! 

Keep Thou my feet! I do not ask to see — 

The distant scene — one step enough for. me. 

— John Henry Newman. 

And what of Cecil Gwynne? 

After Robert Saul left her, she stood for a moment 
in the middle of the room; then turning she left it 
and hastily entered her boudoir. 

For hours she remained there seeking peace. Surely, 
she cried in her heart, God would never ask of her 
so great a sacrifice as this? Surely, surely, He had 
not granted her the magnificent joy of renewed health, 
only now to dash the cup of gladness from her lips, 
refusing her the one thing needful to the completion of 
her happiness. “ I cannot bear it, I cannot bear it,” 
she cried aloud. “ I cannot give him up. Ask any 
other thing of me! Ask all my wealth! all that men 
deem most desirable, but leave me this ! ” 

Passionately she prayed, pouring out the sorrow 
which possessed her. Still no comfort came; still the 
way was altogether dark. 

Twice her maid ventured to knock, and twice was 
178 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


179 


sent away. Twilight passed, and the night was there, 
and still she wept and prayed. Tempest-tossed, now 
driven here, now there ! now well-nigh lost beneath 
the surging seas of sense; now terror-struck at the 
darkness of the clouds, which hung so low around her 
head and curtained all her vision with a veil of night; 
worn out at last, she slept. 

Waking an hour later she heard her maid’s voice 
at the door. 

“ My lady,” the woman called ; “ it is ten o’clock, 
and you have had no dinner.” 

“ I am going,” she replied, “ to see Lady Mar- 
garet Courcy. Get ready to come with me.” 

Who had said the words? Had she? and whence 
came the thought which prompted them? As a flash 
of light amid the darkness of her pain, the remem- 
brance of Margaret Courcy had come to Cecil Gwynne. 
She would go instantly and put it all before her 
cousin. Margaret was so sure of this new road, she 
seemed to walk it with unfaltering tread, where she 
herself could only follow with a doubting heart; she 
would go to her and ask her to fetch Robert to her 
side again. She would ask Margaret to make the 
whole thing clear to him. He would understand it 
all so well, if Margaret spoke to him and told him that, 
it was the “ Truth.” He admired Margaret Courcy’s 
high intellectual attainments, and knew moreover that 
she was always calm — a woman whose judgment would 
not easily be found at fault. Yes, Margaret would 
make the whole thing clear to him, and then . . . 

and then, . . . this awful nightmare would surely 

pass away, and all the road be clear and smooth once 
more. 


180 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


But during the short walk to her cousin’s house, 
the girl’s heart fell again, and it was with trembling 
lips and a breaking voice that she told Margaret 
Courcy of her need. Lady Margaret listened but said 
no word in comment, for she had known that it would 
be thus ; she had read Mr. Saul’s complex nature better 
than could Cecil, with her more biassed judgment; 
and she knew that the time was now at hand when 
his love for his cousin would be submitted to the 
severest possible test. Sincerely religious, he was un- 
consciously swayed by pride of priestcraft and of 
learning. Before he would stop so much as to enquire 
into the rights and wrongs of any ethical question, it 
must, she felt sure, be presented to him fully armed 
with the credentials of scholarly authorship and sup- 
ported by the might of orthodoxy. 

“ Speak to me, Margaret, for pity’s sake ! Tell me 
that he did not mean it ; ” and Cecil sank her head 
upon her cousin’s lap, and sobbed aloud. 

For all answer, Margaret Courcy bent and kissed 
the girl’s forehead gently; then she lifted her quietly 
to her feet and put into her hand a little book. 

“ Rest here,” she said, “ and read ; I will go to my 
room and help you.” 

“ Oh, Margaret,” the girl pleaded, “ stay with me ! 
I cannot read ; ” and she closed the book impatiently 
and put it down. “ I believe,” and Cecil faltered as 
she spoke, “ I believe that if it really comes to choos- 
ing between Science and Robert, that I shall choose 
him ! ” She spoke the last few words defiantly, as 
though fighting some thought within her heart. 

Margaret Courcy did not answer, but kissed her 
cousin again and left the room, gently closing the 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 181 

door behind her. Alone, Cecil threw herself upon the 
sofa. 

“ Let there be light,” she sobbed, 44 let there be 
light ! I cannot see my way ! ” 

Presently she grew calmer and lay quietly resting 
among the soft cushions ; and when Lady Margaret 
entered the room an hour later, Cecil smiled as she 
rose from the sofa and said, 44 Read to me, Margaret, 
will you ? Here is 4 Science and Health.’ It is still 
quite dark ; I do not yet see the way out of this tangle, 
but I am not afraid any more, for I know now that a 
way will surely open.” 

Lady Margaret took the book and read aloud for a 
short time, making no comment, though occasionally 
she paused and silently dwelt upon some passage for 
a moment. When she ceased reading, Cecil Gwynne 
rose and bade her a calm good-night. 

44 Thank you,” she said, 44 that is a beautiful chap- 
ter which you have just read. I shall dwell upon 
that great thought and keep it with me to-night, I 
still do not know which way to turn, but to-mor- 


44 To-morrow,” Lady Margaret gently interrupted, 
44 you will know exactly which way to turn. At pres- 
ent, all that you have to do is to leave to-morrow 
with God, remembering that 4 infinite Wisdom is infinite 
Direction, and that infinite Love is infinite Protec- 
tion.’ ” 


CHAPTER XXI 


A BARQUE— WITH WHITE SAILS UNFURLED 

God’s plans, like lilies pure and white unfold, 

We must not tear the close-shut leaves apart — 
Time will reveal the calyxes of gold. 

— Anon. 


It was early spring and many months had passed since 
the day upon which Mr. Saul and Lady Cecil Gwynne 
had parted. Strange to say not once since then had 
they chanced to encounter one another. At first Mr. 
Saul felt sure that they would often meet, and had 
rather armed himself against the attraction of Lady 
Cecil’s presence. As time wore on, however, he believed 
that his life would be livable without her by his side, 
for other interests gradually crept into his thoughts 
and occupied his time. Foremost among these was his 
sister, Winnie Stuart, and her only child, Malcolm. 
Robert Saul had settled himself in his London house 
soon after his return from Africa, but finding the 
empty rooms unbearably lonely, he had welcomed, with 
an eagerness which surprised himself, a cable from his 
sister saying that she was about to leave India in order 
to see something of her only child. Obviously the 
most suitable arrangement was for brother and sister 
to live together. Malcolm of course spent his holidays 
with them and gradually found his way into his uncle’s 
heart, bringing comfort to the lonely man. 

182 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


183 


Winnie Stuart had scarcely been home a month, when 
she was shocked into a serious illness by the sudden 
announcement of her husband’s death. She was in- 
formed by the military authorities that he had been 
killed at polo the day before his intended embarkation 
for England ; and after this her health, always delicate, 
seemed to fail hopelessly. Sometimes Robert Saul 
asked himself despairingly, why those most dear to 
him must suffer as they did, while he stood helplessly 
by. All that money could do he did, but the doctors 
only shook their heads and talked of “ time.” These 
sudden shocks, they told him, often resulted in severe 
nervous prostration, and he must wait for the bright 
summer days and then get Mrs. Stuart into the coun- 
try as soon as possible. Gradually he found himself 
assuming the position of nurse once more, and very 
tenderly he waited upon his fragile sister. Her gentle 
nature seemed to touch him, where a more robust tem- 
perament would perhaps have irritated his own highly 
strung disposition. 

In one way Winnie suited him exactly as a com- 
panion, she was a beautiful listener and the most 
patient creature on earth. She was always content to 
write at his dictation, no matter how long it might 
take, for she delighted at all times to do his bidding. 
One of those people born to obey the stronger will 
about them, Mrs. Stuart never once attempted to use 
her own judgment. It was ever so much easier to let 
her brother decide every question that might arise, 
and then simply to do as he told her. Thus it came 
about that Robert began to find a sort of satisfaction 
in her sweet obedience and unquestioning adoration. 
For it was nothing less. She always had thought her 


184 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


only brother the most wonderful of men, and now 
that he was certain of a bishopric in the near future, 
why, she thought the Church fortunate to count him 
among its servants. But to Mr. Saul had come a 
bitter disappointment. The bishopric for which he 
had been mentioned was given to another. Privately 
it was explained to him that influence had been used 
in a certain quarter, the net result being that a very 
average man now held an exceptionally high appoint- 
ment in the Church. But Robert Saul was assured 
that the very next See that fell vacant was bespoken 
for him, and for some days now Winnie Stuart had 
been watching the bulletins which daily announced the 
failing health of the Bishop of Yeovil. She wished the 
old man no ill — she was of too gentle and sweet a 
disposition to wish ill to anyone — but she felt quite 
sure that he had held the bishopric too long, and that 
Robert would manage the diocese much better; better 
indeed than anyone else possibly could! Thus she was 
both astonished and disappointed when the old Bishop’s 
death was quickly followed by the announcement of a 
new creation, and once more Robert was not the chosen 
man. 

Mr. Saul was himself grievously disappointed, for 
he had felt quite sure of the appointment, though he 
was much too reticent and proud to dilate upon his 
hopes, even to his sister. 

He was now carrying on the duties which he had 
so ably performed previous to his departure for Africa, 
and he remembered with pleasure the keen apprecia- 
tion which his congregation had evinced, as soon as 
it was understood that he intended to resume the posi- 
tion which he had formerly held among them. It was 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


185 


known that 44 the Vicar 99 always preached every Sun- 
day morning and there was no other church in Lon- 
don so crowded by noon as his, and no other preacher 
in England who could so move his listeners. This 
pleased Mr. Saul. He was a man who loved to rule; 
a man to whom power was the bread of life. He could 
scarcely remember the time when he had not been king 
of his own society, and as a very young man he had 
revelled in the knowledge that he controlled those 
around him by the might of his superior intellect and 
forceful character. To those who knew him merely 
as one of the most highly educated men in England 
and a very conspicuous Churchman, it would have been 
a surprise could they have seen him contentedly spend- 
ing his few spare moments beside the sofa of his 
invalid sister. But there was a side to Mr. Saul’s 
character quitfe hidden from the world and altogether 
unsuspected even by those who knew him best. The 
fact was that within Robert Saul there lay a great 
capacity for love, and he was possessed by a strong 
desire to be loved. 

It would not occur to such a man to seek another 
wife after his experience with Lady Cecil Gwynne. 
He had given her the best that he could ever give to 
any woman in that way, and though he believed him- 
self to be resigned to circumstances, he did not for 
a moment contemplate the possibility that he might, 
even in the distant future, wish to marry any other 
woman. He never had cared for anyone as he still 
cared for Cecil Gwynne; and now that he could not 
marry her, he settled down in a groove which he sup- 
posed would lead on, by a natural sequence of events, 
to a self-contained old bachelorhood. 


186 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


But in reality he was far from content with his fate ; 
far from satisfied with that which life gave him. Also, 
side by side with his discontent, there lived a bitter 
resentment against the cause, or what he considered 
to be the cause, of his incomplete and colourless exist- 
ence. For his life was colourless, in spite of the fact 
that he was one of the busiest men in London, and, 
in a certain circle, the most sought after. But nothing 
interested him as it would have done could Cecil have 
been there to enter into it all with him ; and she might 
have been there had it not been for this horrible “ fad ” 
(for he still persisted in calling it a “ fad ”) that had 
separated them. It enraged him that a miserable 
question of this sort should have wrecked his life, and 
bereft him of the intellectual companionship to which 
he had looked forward, anticipating that, as the years 
should pass, he would be able to train and shape her 
thought to his heart’s content. 

Now he was entirely dependent upon Winnie, and 
it would not have occurred to him to discuss his work 
or studies with her. The very idea was absurd! She 
was not exactly stupid, but she had never read anything 
deeper than a novel since she went to her first ball, 
and besides, you cannot discuss any matter with a 
person who invariably agrees with you and who never 
by any chance initiates a remark. Thus it was that 
the reserve which was natural to the man, grew apace, 
and his heart became totally encrusted with a coldness 
and egotism that estranged him from many who sin- 
cerely admired his unusual gifts, and who paid a just 
tribute of praise to the unremitting toil of his life. 
He was known to be forming a habit of much self- 
abnegation — never sparing himself should a call for 


187 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

help come from his poorest parishioner ; spending hours 
by the bedside of those who sometimes scarcely thanked 
him for the efforts which he made to cheer them through 
a troubled time. He was known moreover to be a man 
of high ideals, who never flinched in the effort to live 
up to the lofty standard of purity and high morality 
which he thus upheld by deed as well as by his vigorous 
protests against sin, delivered Sunday after Sunday 
from his pulpit. 

Mr. Saul had taken Mrs. Stuart and Malcolm — who 
was just home for the summer holidays — into the 
country and had himself returned to London for his 
Sunday duties. On Monday he was to join them for 
a well-earned rest. He was looking forward to the 
next few weeks, and meant to forget, if he could, the 
very existence of the crowded city in which his busy 
life was spent, and lose himself, if only for a short 
spell, in a world of scientific research. As he left his 
dinner table upon this Saturday night he asked if a 
parcel of books had arrived for him and was glad to 
receive an answer in the affirmative. For the next 
few weeks he would do nothing but take long walks 
across the wortleberry- and heather-clad hills, or sit 
out on the moor feasting upon the contents of that 
parcel. 

The evening was very hot, and Robert Saul was 
tempted to wish he had told a curate to represent him 
at the concert to which he was now going; but it was 
held in aid of a deserving charity, in the inception 
and growth of which he and Cecil Gwynne had both 
taken a sustained interest, so the fancy had been strong 
upon him to go in person. He was a little late, but 
was too well known to be allowed to suffer in conse- 


188 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


quence of that, and a seat had been reserved for him in 
the middle of one of the front rows. There were pro- 
grammes of course, and he quickly ran his eye through 
one but immediately put it down with a distinct realisa- 
tion of his disappointment. But he instantly forced 
his thought into another channel and refused to allow, 
even to himself, that he had expected to see one name 
in particular among the performers. 

As the evening wore on he became a little bored and 
decided that it was a mistake for amateurs to perform 
in public in London, where their audience must in- 
evitably be a critical one. The first part of the con- 
cert was over, and he fell to thinking about that parcel 
of new books and the quiet weeks before him, when, 
suddenly, he w r as roused from the state of apathy into 
which he had fallen into one of intense interest. 

A gentleman had come upon the stage and an- 
nounced that, owing to circumstances over which she 
had no control, Miss Greenway was unable to be 
present, and that Lady Cecil Gwynne had most kindly 
consented to sing in her place. 

And now Cecil Gwynne was singing, and instantly 
Robert Saul knew that lie had returned from Somer- 
setshire, not to preach upon the morrow, but to hear 
Cecil sing to-night. Instantly he became aware that 
he had hoped for this and had come to the concert im- 
pelled by the wish to see her. 

Why he had not consciously formulated, or followed 
up this motive, he did not now stop to consider. Cecil 
was there before him, and he knew that he had been 
hungering for the sight of her all the past year. He 
feasted his eyes upon her face and form and never 
moved them except once, and then he kept them closed, 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


189 


because he dared not let the sudden moisture which 
rose within them be seen of men. Cecil’s voice always 
had moved him deeply, but he had never heard her sing 
like this before! never realised the full beauty of her 
voice, nor enjoyed her cultivated rendering of any 
song, as he did to-night. He sat perfectly still and 
wished that the world were empty of all save Cecil and 
himself. 

He did not lift his eyes until her song was ended 
and she left the stage. The rest of the programme be- 
came intolerable to him. To move was impossible, but 
it was only by a strong effort of will that he remained 
quietly seated after the concert was over, until some 
ladies upon either side of him rose from their seats 
and thus permitted him to go in search of Lady Cecil 
Gwynne. 

He was determined to see her; quite determined to 
speak to her before she left the concert hall that night. 
His chagrin was therefore great when, after an ex- 
haustive search among the crowd, he found that she 
had left the building the instant her song was over. 

But he had seen her, had listened to her voice; and 
every nerve had vibrated as she sang. For hours that 
night he lay awake and asked himself how he could 
ever have supposed that it was possible for him to give 
her up, how he could ever have contemplated an exist- 
ence entirely separated from hers. 

From that night his thought was concentrated upon 
one single purpose — to win Cecil Gwynne for his wife. 
How it was to be done he did not stop to consider. 
Not for a moment, even now, did he propose to abate 
one jot or one tittle of his creed. Not for an instant 
did he propose to depart from the position which he 


190 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


had taken up. It was Cecil who somehow must be 
made to give in: Cecil who must change her ridiculous 
views and, as he crisply put it to himself, come to her 
senses. Sometimes hope ran high as he looked back at 
the enterprises which, by sheer force of will, and the 
exercise of a certain quality which his contemporaries 
called grasp, he had carried triumphantly through, and 
he felt assured of success. At other times, he asked 
himself what was the meaning of that indefinable quality 
in Cecil which had struck him for the first time a year 
ago? 

It had again impressed him forcibly upon the night 
of the concert, for he had then watched her face 
steadily during the first few moments of her song, and 
had seen in it something to which he could not put a 
name. Whatever it was, it baffled him and sometimes 
made him doubtful of success. Vaguely, he felt left 
behind and impatiently asked himself, how was he ever 
to come in touch with her again? Dimly, he realised 
that there was now a distance between them which 
had not before existed; but this only made him the 
more determined to bridge the chasm over and subject 
her will to his, in order that their lives might flow on- 
ward side by side — -her will subservient to his own ; her 
every thought wedded to his thought. And all the time 
he called it — love ! 


CHAPTER XXII 


CALLED 

Gird thy heavenly armour on. 

Wear it ever night and day; 

Ambushed lies the evil one — 

Watch and pray. 

— C. Elliot. 

From “ Geistliche Lieder.” 

It was autumn now, and many of the West End houses 
were full again. But day after day passed, and Mr. 
Saul neither heard nor saw anything of Lady Cecil 
Gwynne. He had written to her that August night, 
directly after his return from the concert, a brief note, 
for he knew himself to be deeply stirred, and there 
ran through his nature a certain contradiction — a curi- 
ous vein of caution which sometimes made him stand 
en garde when he would have served his purpose better 
by stepping boldly out. This part of his nature was, 
however, unknown to Cecil Gwynne, who would have 
described him as the most impulsive man of her ac- 
quaintance; his note, therefore, appeared to her to be 
both cold and* unrelenting in its tone. Her answer 
was equally brief and merely stated that she regretted 
her inability to receive him in Grosvenor Square as 
she was shortly leaving town until the autumn. 

From that time until this Robert had counted the 
days until the fashionable world might be expected 
191 


192 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


to be “ at home 99 once more, and for some weeks now 
he had been hoping to encounter Lady Cecil Gwynne 
casually. This, however, did not happen, and it did 
not occur to him that possibly Lady Cecil was care- 
ful to avoid those functions at which he would almost 
surely be present. Too proud to write to her again, 
he yet so longed to see her that he did not now at- 
tempt to disguise from himself his real motive, when 
he entered into social engagements which his many 
duties made it difficult for him to keep. Still he al- 
ways kept them, and more than once he arrived at a 
musical reception only to find that Lord Brecon and 
his sister had just left. 

Meanwhile, he was feeling happier and brighter 
about his sister, Winnie Stuart, than he had ever ex- 
pected to feel. After all, he himself had only escaped 
the London summer for a few weeks, but Winnie and 
Malcolm had spent all the long vacation upon the 
Quantock Hills. The boy had returned to school some 
weeks before, and Mrs. Stuart was expected home that 
evening. 

An engagement, which it was imperative that he 
should keep, prevented his greeting her at Padding- 
ton, but he hurried back, expecting to find her arrived 
and comfortably resting upon the Ilkley couch — the 
couch which he had originally bought for Cecil Gwynne. 

His surprise was great when his sister met him in 
the hall, dressed for dinner — dressed, not in one of her 
invalidish teagowns, but in a dainty demi-toilette. 

“ Why, Winnie,” he exclaimed, “ how well you seem 
to be ! your cheeks are quite pink, and you look ten 
years younger ! ” 

“ I feel ten years younger,” she answered delightedly, 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 193 

“ but I told you in my last letter than I am getting 
quickly strong.” 

44 Yes, I know, but I did not expect such a transfor- 
mation as this .” And Robert kissed his sister ten- 
derly, and thanked God beneath his breath that he 
had followed the doctor’s advice and left her so long 
in the bracing country air. It had not been easy to 
do so, for he had missed the quiet comfort of her pres- 
ence and had found the hot summer evenings insup- 
portably lonely. Not that he was in the habit of con- 
versing much with Winnie, but he liked to feel that 
she was in the room and near at hand should he need 
her. 

Dinner that night was the merriest that the brother 
and sister had ever spent together ; Winnie was, Robert 
told her, 44 in great form,” and gave him bright amus- 
ing sketches of the adventures which she and Malcolm 
had enjoyed while away. He discovered that this 
usually dull little sister of his had quite a gift as a 
raconteuse , and he found her brightness infectious. 
Several times he forgot his usual self-containment and 
laughed so heartily that his butler confided to the 
housekeeper that it was 44 the master who seemed twenty 
years younger, let alone Mrs. Stuart ten ! ” 

Coffee had been brought up, and Mr. Saul and his 
sister were now alone in the drawing-room. The au- 
tumn evening was chilly and a bright fire burnt in the 
grate, before which Mr. Saul stood leaning his back, 
English fashion, against the mantelpiece. Presently he 
moved away and, seating himself in a large armchair, 
held out his hand to Winnie. 

44 Come here ! ” he said kindly, 44 and tell me more 
about these beautiful pink roses which the moorland 


194 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


breezes have painted upon your cheeks; we must take 
care that the London fogs do not dim them. I do not 
want to see them fade.” 

Any exhibition of feeling upon the part of her re- 
served brother was rare, and Winnie was deeply touched 
by his unusual display of tenderness. 

She instantly left her seat and sat upon the arm of 
his chair. 

“ They will not fade,” she answered brightly, “ for 
it is not the moorland breezes that have given them to 
me.” She hesitated a moment, and then continued, 
though with some effort. 

“ This summer I made new friends, Robert ; you 
remember that I spoke of them to you in my letters. 
The Meades ” 

“ Oh, yes,” he interrupted, “ tell me more about 
the Meades. They seem to have been the kindest of 
friends to my lonely little sister and her son.” 

“ They have been the truest friends a woman ever 
had, and it is to their loving-kindness that I owe, in 
a great measure, my new-found health,” and Winnie’s 
face grew grave. 

“ And you have known them only a short time, you 
say! Well, I hope that I may have an early oppor- 
tunity of thanking them,” Robert answered heartily; 
“ for what blessing is there to be compared to health 
of mind and body, and you seem to have found both.” 
And he looked at his sister, still surprised at the change 
in her appearance and general tone. 

“ I have learnt,” she answered gently, “ that the 
two are inseparable — that the one is not, in reality, a 
possibility without the other.” 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


195 


Though her tone caught Robert’s attention, he was 
nevertheless utterly unprepared for what followed. 

“ Robert,” Mrs. Stuart said gravely, “ it is Chris- 
tian Science that is healing me. Have you ever heard 
of it ? ” 

“ Had he ever heard of it? ” Robert held his breath. 
The blow was so unexpected and was moreover delivered 
from the last quarter in the world from which he could 
have anticipated any such attack. That Winnie, of 
all people, should have become entangled in this dan- 
gerous heresy, and without his knowledge or consent, 
was almost inconceivable to him. Winnie! who never 
spent sixpence, nor took a drive without consulting 
him ! And did not the little fool know, he mentally 
exclaimed, that Christian Science had wrecked his hap- 
piness ! In his rage he was, of course, unjust. His 
sister knew that his engagement to Cecil Gwynne had 
been suddenly broken off — that much he had written to 
tell her before her return from India. But when she 
had ventured shortly after her return to refer to the 
matter he had answered her enquiries so curtly that she 
had never approached the subject again; consequently 
she knew no details. Now Robert Saul did his best, the 
best he knew, that is, to curb his anger, but wild pas- 
sion possessed him, and for a time he dared not speak. 
The veins about his temples rose into knots, and he 
closed his hands and held them stiff, while he locked 
his teeth together. 

And all the time, Winnie knew nothing of the storm 
which raged beside her, for she was reading from a 
little book which she held in her hand. 

I have only read this book through once,” she said, 


196 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


“ but it seems beautiful to me. I want you to read this 
first page,” and she handed it, open, to Mr. Saul. 

He knew it well ! Another woman, also dear to him, 
had once put this same small volume into his hand; 
that time, he had refused to so much as touch it. Now, 
he took it and closed the cover sharply, while his face 
whitened and grew hard. 

Very deliberately he rose from his chair and walked 
over to the hearth. Winnie thought that he moved to- 
wards the candles, which gave a brighter light upon 
the mantelpiece, in order that he might the better see 
to read. Instead, he stooped and took the small brass 
tongs which stood against the lintel, while with them 
he removed a large block of coal from the top of the 
fire. 

“ Simmonds has made an enormous fire,” Mrs. 
Stuart said. “ I wonder why servants ; ” her plati- 

tude was never finished. She ceased speaking abruptly, 
for Robert had bent low over the fire and had deliber- 
ately placed her book in the very centre of the flame. 
Sheer amazement held Winnie Stuart still. But when 
at last her brother turned and for the first time she 
saw his face distinctly, she received a shock. 

“ Winnie.” Robert Saul stopped abruptly, and 
moistened his lips, while the fingers of each hand dug 
into the palm; then for a moment he mastered his 
voice; “Winnie,” he repeated evenly, in clear, decisive 
accents, “ I know all about Christian Science, and I 

shall do that ,” he jerked his head towards the 

soft curling ashes which marred the red glow of the 
fire’s heart, “ I shall do that,” he repeated with cold 
distinctness, “ to every book of the kind which you 
bring into this house.” 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


197 


He left the room abruptly, and one minute later 
Mrs. Stuart heard the hall door slam and a quick step, 
which she recognised as her brother’s, passed the win- 
dow. 

At first she was too bewildered to think connectedly. 
Nothing seemed clear to her, except her brother’s face, 
as she had seen it, when he had turned and spoken to 
her a moment ago. 

He looked, she thought, just as he used to look 
twenty years ago, when in a passion. But surely he 
had long outgrown those wild rages ! 44 Of course,” 

she added to herself, 44 this fit of fury will pass quickly, 
just as those others did when he was a boy; and he 
will do, as he invariably did then, all that can be done 
to make up to me. He will probably,” and now she 
smiled, " buy me a perfect mountain of Christian Science 
literature in place of the book which he has burnt.” 

Remembering that of old only one course had been 
possible while her brother was angered, Mrs. Stuart 
rose and went to her room. To leave him alone had 
always been, she remembered, the quickest way to cool 
Robert’s wrath. To-morrow, he would make a point 
of asking her forgiveness, and all would be sunshine 
once more. And then she smiled again, as she remem- 
bered how her brother had always hated to 44 beg par- 
don,” but had, nevertheless, sternly schooled himself 
into the necessary state of humility. She could see 
him now, as she had seen him often when a child, stand- 
ing before her with his face crimson and his eyes still 
rebellious, blurting out, boylike, what he considered an 
ample apology — 44 Sorry, Winnie,” — and often it had 
happened that Winnie, with her sweet and rather shal- 
low nature, had already forgotten the quarrel and would 


198 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

be puzzled, for the moment, to remember to what he 
referred. 

Now, she changed into a warm dressing-gown and 
sat before her fire, quite happy, reading her Bible. It 
had of late become a new book, bringing to her rest of 
body and calm of mind. The Gospels were, of course, 
all very familiar, but now the Gospel of St. John held 
for Winnie a new and joyous meaning, which she had 
never before known to be there. 

44 To-morrow,” she mused as she closed her Bible, 
44 all will be well, and Robert will study Christian 
Science with me, and we shall be happier than ever 
he or I have been before.” 

And soon she slept. Slept! when she should have 
watched and prayed. . . . Ah, Winnie, though 

thou dost not know it, because as yet thou are rousing 
but slowly from the Adam-dream, to-morrow will be 
big with blessing, or with curse, for thee and thine. 
For to-morrow shall come the call, 44 Take up the cross 
and follow Me.” Poor sleeping child! didst not heed 
the warning sent thee in those words — 44 Not as the 
world giveth, give I unto you? ” To thee, Winnie, 
much has now been given, and of thee much shall be 
demanded in return. Sleep not, but rise up quickly, 
work, watch and pray, with all thine armour on. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


' DOMESTIC TYRANNY 

Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; 
that put darkness for light, and light for darkness. 

— Isaiah. 

Mrs. Stuart awoke the next morning feeling deeply 
depressed and very tired. She turned to the table 
beside her bed, meaning to open her text book. But 
suddenly she remembered that it had been quite de- 
stroyed the night before. Why had she not made some 
effort to recover it from the flames as she might have 
done, had she been more alert? She immediately con- 
soled herself, however, with the thought that she would 
buy another that day. But as she dressed, two things 
occurred to her; first, she had no money of her own, 
and in this matter she was entirely dependent upon 
Robert. Her husband’s sudden death had left her pen- 
niless, without even the small pittance of a widow’s 
pension. Not that this mattered as a rule, for the 
ample fortune, which her brother had inherited from 
his godfather, brought him in a goodly income, and 
he was one of those men who delight in spending their 
money lavishly upon those whom they love. He gave 
his sister splendid presents at all sorts of unexpected 
times. He would have thought it absurd to await her 
birthday or the arrival of a festive season, before pre- 
senting her with the beautiful little victoria, in which 
199 


200 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


she drove daily. He always insisted that she should 
have all that she needed, and that it should be the 
best of its kind. He never would allow her to travel 
in a second-class carriage, but always paid liberally 
for the restful comfort of a 44 first,” with the magic 
word 44 engaged ” slanting across the window pane. 
To her maid he paid high wages in order that Mrs. 
Stuart might be carefully waited upon. Indeed, he 
ungrudgingly spent so much money upon her comfort, 
surrounding her with every luxury, that Winnie often 
told her brother that he must not spoil her. Mal- 
colm’s school expenses he made entirely his own affair, 
and believing firmly that the foundation stones of a 
boy’s education must be well laid, he willingly expended 
a larger sum upon his nephew than many a parent 
would have considered at all necessary. And yet, in 
spite of his magnificent generosity, his sister seldom 
had the personal control of sixpence. All bills were 
sent in to Mr. Saul, and a liberal cheque drawn should 
she be away from home, but her brother expected, and 
always obtained from her, an accurate account of her 
expenditures upon these occasions. It is doubtful if he 
himself knew why he held the purse strings so entirely 
in his own hands. Probably he did not examine his 
motive. Life to him was a matter of perpetual ac- 
tivity, and he spared himself very little time for intro- 
spection. But his method was consistent with his 
character, the dominant note of which was a habit of 
despotism. 

The second point, which occurred to Mrs. Stuart as 
her maid wound her pretty soft hair around her head, 
was that she had no idea where to purchase another 
copy of 44 Science and Health.” She was a very young 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


201 


student of Christian Science, and though she had felt 
its power, her natural laziness had made her slow to 
take up her own work. Dimly she discerned something 
of the beauty of this new religion, for she had already 
proved its power to be Love. Was it not restoring her 
to health, and at the same time revealing to her awaken- 
ing consciousness that God is a God of Love alone? 
But though Winnie Stuart had distinctly heard the 
voice of Truth calling her, she was still only stirring 
in her sleep, and her eyes were heavy with the thraldom 
of the past and the slumber of the ages. 

Now she went down to breakfast and began to chat- 
ter to her brother, just as though there had been no 
storm the night before. But he scarcely answered her. 
Indeed Mr. Saul looked weary, as even a strong man 
may after a great conflict, especially when he is the 
loser. 

Not that Robert Saul supposed himself to have lost 
the battle. On the contrary, he was secretly proud 
that he had found the courage to stand firm, and it 
was in a tone of some curtness that he told his sister, 
directly the meal was over, that he wished to speak 
to her in his study. Mrs. Stuart immediately rose. 
It would have been unnatural to her to disobey, as she 
had been subject to her brother’s rule almost ever since 
she could speak. True, during the few years of her 
married life, she had been somewhat emancipated, but 
only to a certain extent. Old habits take long in the 
uprooting, and she had hardly been under her brother’s 
roof a week, on her return from India, before she re- 
sumed her role of gentle obedience as naturally as 
possible. 

Mr. Saul opened the study door and stood aside 


202 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

with punctilious politeness, as his sister entered. Then 
he immediately followed and closed the door. He did 
not look at Winnie, however, but walked to the window 
and fixed his eyes upon the dreary scene without. It 
was a miserable day; drip, drip, the rain fell, and all 
the air was dark. A wretched woman, passing, paused 
and raised a face yellow with starvation. Her wan 
appearance irritated Mr. Saul, and opening the window 
sharply he threw her half a crown. It was against 
his principles to be thus indiscriminate in his charity, 
but the woman’s appearance had momentarily reminded 
him of Winnie; nothing definable, but just that touch 
of likeness in face and form, which claims the attention 
of the observant. Mr. Saul was unusually observant 
this morning — his every sense seemed quickened. He 
noticed with annoyance that his orders had been over- 
looked in the small matter of window curtains. They 
should have been changed yesterday. To-day, they 
appeared to be a great deal less white than w T hen he had 
called his housekeeper’s attention to them twenty-four 
hours ago because they were not up to the mark of 
spotlessness which he demanded. 

He stood for a long time silently before the window, 
his great form blocking out much of what little light 
there was upon this dark autumn morning. 

Meanwhile, Winnie waited quietly enough. Upon 
entering the room, she had seated herself in the large 
chair which stood beside the fire. She was not looking 
at her brother at all, and, when at last he spoke, she 
was a little startled. 

Was this Robert’s voice? The usually rich tones 
were now harsh and discordant, and he seemed to speak 
with difficulty. 


203 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

Mrs. Stuart was not a woman of much penetration, 
but of late she had begun to understand those around 
her much more easily ; and she now became aware that 
her brother was suffering. 

46 Winnie,” he said, 44 I have thought this matter out 
— you must choose between me and Christian Science ! ” 

44 What do you mean?” she gasped, in simple per- 
plexity. 

44 1 mean,” he repeated slowly, 44 precisely what I 
say ; you must choose between me — between this house, 
for instance — and Christian Science.” 

For fully a minute Winnie Stuart did not reply. 
When she did, Robert Saul was amazed. He thought 
he knew his docile sister so well, that now he almost 
doubted his hearing. Winnie had risen and stood 
silently before him. Her face was very white. For the 
time, at any rate, the bright roses had faded. Pres- 
ently she spoke. 

44 1 choose,” she said in strong clear accents, 44 Chris- 
tian Science.” 

The brother and sister faced each other. Neither 
moved, neither spoke, for quite a while. Then slowly 
the blood mounted to Robert’s face, and he struck a 
blow which he believed would be quite final. But he did 
not look at the woman before him as he spoke; he was 
ashamed, quite consciously ashamed, and yet . . . 
he did it. 

44 You must choose between Malcolm and Christian 
Science ! ” 

There was now a complete silence — a silence preg- 
nant with the issues of life and death, though neither 
the man nor the woman knew it then. The rain con- 
tinued to beat its dreary dirge upon the window pane ; 


204 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


a hansom drove rapidly by ; a half-drenched pedestrian 
hurried past the window and glanced curiously at the 
tall form within the room ; and still neither the man nor 
the woman spoke. 

The clock struck ten, and Mr. Saul, suddenly mind- 
ful of another engagement, broke the long silence. 

“ I will give you,” he said, “ five minutes in which 
to decide whether you will give up this nonsense, or 
render your child penniless and homeless.” 

Winnie stood up very straight, and looked, for her, 
quite tall. 

“ 1 will work for Malcolm,” she said. 

“Work?” Mr. Saul laughed aloud, intending his 
sister to hear him, as she left his presence; intending 
her to suffer as she heard. 

“ Work for Malcolm ! ” Where and how did the 
silly creature suppose that she could earn enough to 
feed the child, much less to educate him! And Mr. 
Saul thought of the last cheque which he had drawn 
during the summer holidays. Pshaw ! She would come 
to her senses in time, and it would no doubt help her 
to do so, if he were to show her that last counterfoil. 
He unlocked a drawer in his writing-table and drew 
from it his cheque book. A file of papers caught his 
eye and selecting one, he went in search of his sister, 
whom he found in her sitting-room. 

In justice to the man it must be remembered that he 
himself was suffering. But he was of the kind who 
would literally have cut off the right hand, had he 
deemed it his duty to do so. In one way, he had been 
born too late. He had the splendid courage that goes 
to the making of a martyr, coupled with a fervent de- 
votion to his religion ; and if his character was marred 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


205 


by harshness and a lack of breadth, this was more the 
inevitable outcome of the life which he had led, than in- 
herent to his nature. 

He stood before his sister for a moment, holding 
out a receipted bill. 

“ Look,” he said, “ and tell me how you propose to 
earn enough to settle such accounts as this.” 

Winnie Stuart took the paper and glanced at it. 
She breathed a little quickly when next she spoke. 

66 1 had no idea,” she said, “ that a preparatory 
school cost so much.” 

“ It depends on the school,” Mr. Saul answered 
shortly. “ Come, Winnie,” he added more pleasantly, 
“ you can’t seriously contemplate the ruin of Malcolm’s 
career. You know how clever the boy is ; you know 

how much his future means to me. Probably ” 

Mr. Saul paused for a moment, and then added in a 
tone of some emotion, “ or perhaps you do not know, 
because it is hard for me to speak of these things, but 
. . . I love the child as if he were my own. If you 

will give up this ” he hesitated, and then found 

the word he sought, “ this aberration, Malcolm shall 
be to me as a son, and neither you nor he shall ever 
have one moment’s anxiety about ways and means.” 

“ Thank you, Robert,” his sister replied with sweet 
gravity, 44 but you ask that which I have no power 
to grant. I understand very little of this new thought, 
but it has done for me in a short time more than ever 
my religion did before. It has made me happier and 
stronger than I have ever been ; it has given me 
a ” 

“ Then we will not waste time over a useless dis- 
cussion.” Mr. Saul spoke hastily again : “ And what, 


206 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


may I ask, do you propose to do? I shall at once send 
off the necessary notice, in order that Malcolm may 
leave school as soon as possible.” 

“ I propose,” Mrs. Stuart answered, “ to consult 
my friends the — — ” 

“ A telegram for you, madam ; ” and Mrs. Stuart 
turned to find the maid at her elbow. 

She took the missive with some surprise, for she 
seldom, if ever, received a wire, and her face whitened 
as she read the message. 

Robert, watching her, turned sharply to the servant. 
“ That will do,” he said, “ I will ring if there is any 
answer.” 

As the maid closed the door, Mr. Saul crossed the 
room, and spoke gently to his sister, for he himself 
was not free from anxiety. 

“Malcolm is all right? Surely, Winnie, it is not 
from the school? ” 

Mrs. Stuart handed him the telegram, saying; 

“ I will go to my bedroom, Robert, I want to be 
quite alone.” 

Mr. Saul read rapidly the few short sentences writ- 
ten upon the flimsy paper in his hand ; “ Unexpectedly 
leaving England immediately, am writing and sending 
you the particulars you need. Meade.” 

“ Excellent,” he said aloud, “ this will settle the 
matter.” He left the house a few minutes later, satis- 
fied that all would come about as he wished, and as he 
walked round to the vestry meeting at which he was 
somewhat overdue, he wondered whether he could give 
up Malcolm should Winnie persist in her folly? The 
child was one after his own heart, in whom he loved to 
trace a likeness to himself. That the lad had brains no 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 207 

one could doubt, though the father had been a very 
average man, and Winnie was certainly not clever. 

Most people stood somewhat in awe of Mr. Saul, 
but Malcolm, though he had at first felt timid in his 
uncle’s presence, had gradually been drawn towards 
him. He felt the love which Robert silently cherished 
for him, and he would now unhesitatingly approach 
his uncle at all times, even invading the strict privacy 
of his study uninvited, till Robert Saul had grown to 
look forward to the holidays and to the long winter 
and early spring evenings, when Malcolm, book in hand, 
would curl himself upon the study hearth. Sometimes 
he would lie there reading for hours, sometimes he 
would enter into strange, thoughtful conversations with 
the reticent man, who was seemingly never too busy to 
answer his questions and who was, moreover, always 
able to explain those difficult matters, which other 
people did not appear to understand. Often they 
would go out upon the balcony and study the starlit 
heavens, and in time Malcolm became quite wise and 
talked so naturally of matters usually unapproached 
by a child of his age, that his uncle found in him a 
source of perpetual delight. 

A short walk now brought the Vicar to his Church, 
and as he entered he comforted himself with the re- 
flection that it was not he who had to choose between 
his religion and his desire. Things were shaping very 
nicely, and Winnie would soon behave sensibly ; espe- 
cially now that these objectionable new friends of hers 
were leaving England, for she would have no one but 
himself to lean upon. 

That afternoon, while he and his sister were seated 
at tea, the maid entered with the five o’clock post. 


208 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


Several letters for Mr. Saul and only a postcard for 
Mrs. Stuart. 

Winnie paused in the act of pouring out her 
brother’s tea, to take her card from the maid, but she 
did not look at it as she laid it upon the table beside 
her. 

The postmark was a particularly distinct one, and 
Mr. Saul instantly observed it. 

“ Winnie,” he said, as, leaning over, he took up the 
card, “ this is only a postcard and is evidently from 
your friends the Meades. May I read it?,” 

Mrs. Stuart was a little surprised, but it was at all 
times easier for one of her lethargic disposition to 
consent to, rather than dissent from, another’s wishes, 
and so she nodded silently. 

As he read, the devil, as Mr. Saul afterwards de- 
clared, entered into him and used him to strike a blow 
which one day came home to roost. 

Upon the card were written a few hurried lines 
only, an intimation of regret that the writer had not 
time to enter into detail, but was sending the address 
from which Mrs. Stuart could obtain all the informa- 
tion which she needed in order to follow up her study 
of Christian Science. 

Reading this, Mr. Saul at once realised that he had 
wasted his energy, when, in the passion of the moment, 
he had the night before burnt Winnie’s text book, for 
now she could easily obtain another copy and, it ap- 
peared, make the acquaintance of as many of these 
objectionable people as she chose. “ But,” the devil 
whispered, “ she has not read the card, and the writer 
is leaving England. Before he can write again, or she 
can obtain the address by making other enquiries, 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 309 


Winnie will see the matter in its proper light, and Mal- 
colm will not be separated from you, but will become 
unto you even as a son.” Scenes from the past 
thronged through the now open door and tugged at the 
man’s heartstrings. He must have Malcolm. The 
boy’s pale, clever face, alight with intelligence as he 
remembered it to have been that night when they both 
became so interested while discussing stars of the fourth 
and fifth magnitude, rose before Mr. Saul, and he knew 
that he could not let Malcolm go. Neither was it pos- 
sible to such a man, in such a mood, to take what would 
have seemed to him to be a retrogressive step. He 
had placed his ultimatum before his sister, and by it 
they must both abide. 

So he looked Mrs. Stuart straight in the face, for 
he became less ashamed each time he hurt her, and 
said, “ I do not wish you to read this postcard so I 
intend to destroy it ! ” And before Winnie could utter 
a protest by word or deed, he had quietly placed the 
card in the breast pocket of his coat. 

Winnie understood at once that to attempt to re- 
gain possession of her property by force would be 
absurd. Robert was the most stalwart man she knew. 
He would not need to do more than stand firm and 
passively resistant, while she should expend her 
woman’s strength in the futile endeavour to obtain 
that which he did not intend her to have. Besides 
such a proceeding would have been completely foreign 
to her. She was too sensible to even argue about the 
matter. 

“ You should not have done that, Robert,” she said 
quietly. 

Mr. Saul, though he would never have admitted it, 


210 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

felt more rebuked than he could have supposed pos- 
sible. 

“ I must help you,” he answered instantly, “ while 
you are unable to see clearly enough to help yourself. 
Upon the day that you promise me to drop this 
blasphemous creed I will return your property.” 

Mrs. Stuart did not answer a word, but turning help- 
lessly away she left the room. 

Poor slumbering child, with the dream of ages in 
thine eyes ! Frail mortal, burdened with the finite 
thought of personal control: what canst thou do? 

Listen, my sister; there is a great highway which 
lies wide open and leads unto the endless day — “ the 
way of holiness ” — and “ the wayfaring men, though 
fools, shall not err therein.” Wake! little sister, wake! 
Quickly, while there yet is time, “ gird up the loins of 
your mind,” “ arise from the dead, and Christ shall 
give thee light.” 


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Part IV 

BROKEN SHUTTLES UPON THE TABLE OF 
TIME 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE RECANTATION 

These things have I spoken unto you, that ye should not 
be offended. They shall put you out of the synagogues: 
yea, the time cometh, that whosoever killeth you will think 
that he doeth God service. 

— Jesus. 


“ Winnie,” Robert Saul spoke gently, when some 
hours later he bade his sister good-night, “ I have 
been thinking this matter over again, and I feel so sure 
that you will be guided by me, that we will leave 
things as they are for a week. At the end of that 
time, I know that you will do as I wish.” 

Mrs. Stuart did not answer, but kissed her brother 
quietly and went rather wearily upstairs. 

The next day there began for Winnie Stuart a time 
of mental persecution which can only be understood by 
those who have been tried in a like fire; and all the 
time Robert Saul believed that he was serving his God. 
Even though he saw his sister’s new-found health 
rapidly failing, he somehow convinced himself that any- 
thing were better than such a life as she would lead, 
were he to allow her to embrace this heretical creed. 
Every weapon that the carnal mind could devise and 
forge of cruelty, it used, and found in him a ready tool ; 
scourges, woven of bitter derision — a very refinement 
of insult — cold neglect, bom partly of a half-uncon- 
213 


214 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


scious determination to make her bend her will to his, 
partly of his inability to understand how fearful was 
the pain which he daily — nay, hourly — inflicted upon 
this gentle nature. And the devil put ready to his 
hand a knotted cord of awful weight — Malcolm. 
Robert Saul spared the mother’s loving heart not one 
single fear that his rampant thought could conjure 
up. He painted, with all the power of his wonderful 
eloquence, the child’s future, despised, ill-educated, 
hungry, perhaps even degraded. 

Winnie bore it all without a word. But one night 
she wept herself to sleep and woke the next day weary 
and afraid, for to-day Robert would ask her decision. 
Then, in her pain, she murmured and sought to justify 
herself ; “ If only she had known the Meades longer ! 
If only she could go to them ! If only she understood 
this new thought better and could apply it when in 
need ! ” But why did she not understand this new 
thought better? Why could she not apply it when in 
need? Was it not because, when with the Meades, she 
had yielded to a natural laziness and had not made 
any real effort for herself and had thus neglected one 
of those golden opportunities which, once lost, can 
only be regained through sore trial and tribulation? 
She had not begun really to study Christian Science, 
before her brother had wrenched the text book from her 
hand; and the habit of her life was strong upon her 
and — Robert hurt her every hour of the day! 

Still she did not waver, for already, though she had 
understood so little, she realised that much indeed had 
been given to her in those few wonderful months, and 
that Christian Science held for her that which she had 
not supposed that life upon earth could hold for any- 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


215 


one. Yet she feared to rely utterly upon it, while 
Science, and Science alone, could have sustained her 
through the ordeal which now confronted her. 

Here Winnie Stuart made the mistake of her life; 
a mistake arising out of that strange obstinacy, which 
weak natures misname strength. She surrendered her- 
self to the subtle power of the human will; nay , she 
even called it to her aid, and told herself again and 
again, that she would not give in ; rather, she would 
bear anything; for once Robert should see that her 
will was equal to his own! Thus, trusting to a sup- 
port which was wholly mortal, she was all unprepared 
for the fierce trial which awaited her. Nor did she 
fortify herself as she might have done: day after day 
her Bible had remained unopened, and she made no 
effort at all to replace her text book. 

But how had Robert Saul spent that night? He 
left his study late, only to return within the hour; for 
he found that he could not sleep. Then it was that 
subtle Evil dressed itself in seeming white; as it loves 
best to do, and crept upon its silent way with soft and 
sinuous tread, till it paused before an open door called 
Hate. “ Ah,” it murmured gleefully, “ I know my 
way in here right well ! ” Within the door it paused 
and announced itself — “ Religion.” Then sat itself 
upon the lap of man and darted poison in his ear. 
“ You love your sister,” it softly said; 66 and you must 
save her from this thing which you so justly hate, for 
you best can serve your God by saving her, if need be, 
from herself. The means you ask? why, all are fair to 
win a soul from hell ! ” And the face of Evil glowed 
with an unholy light; and the heart of Evil laughed, 
and laughed again, as it saw that man was fast asleep 


210 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

and dreamed he spoke to Good. “ The means ? 99 man 
muttered; “ tell me where they may be found, and I 
will use them, though it should cost me all I love ! ” 

Softly Evil placed its poisoned lips upon the ear of 
man and whispered, in a voice whose triumph it could 
scarce conceal, the name of one whom Winnie held 
most dear. But the face of man grew white and horror- 
struck ; “ Tell me,” he said, “ some other way, I dare 
not use the child.” 

“Hast thou forgot?” and the lying voice, which 
always apes the truth, made subtle answer to his fear. 
“ Hast thou forgot, 4 a little child shall lead them ’? 99 

The head of man sank low upon his breast and he 
muttered in his heart, “ I had forgot ! to-morrow — I 
— will — act.” 

Thus Evil, having twisted to its lying heart’s con- 
tent the word of Good, laughed low, and, wise as are 
the children of this world, it crept away nor marred 
its work by overwork . 

Thus the morrow was, for Robert Saul, a day of 
mighty triumph; followed by a night of weeping! 

Malcolm was up for his half-term holiday, and di- 
rectly after lunch Mr. Saul took the child into his 
study. Winnie beckoned the boy back as he turned 
at the door, and smiling, he kissed his hand to her. 

“ In a minute, mother,” he called in sweet, clear ac- 
cents, and then the door closed upon him. 

The minutes passed into an hour, and the hour into 
two, and still Malcolm did not return. 

At last Mrs. Stuart, unable to remain longer alone, 
went to the study and brought the child away. 

His face was aflame and his eyelids wet with tears, 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


217 


and scarcely had they entered the drawing-room, be- 
fore he turned and rent his mother, as I have seen a 
hound worry a wounded hare. 

“ Mother,” he said in a voice so hard that Winnie 
wondered, was it really her child who spoke? “ You 
must give up Christian Science, or I shall hate you! 
I shall hate you, forever and forever ! ” The boy’s face 
quivered in his rage and pain, and now his voice was 
low and fierce — almost a snarl. 

Winnie reeled as though she had been struck. 

“ Hush ! Malcolm,” she whispered. “ Oh, hush ! ” 
and she raised her hands as though to ward off some 
foul blow. “ You do not know what it is you say to 
me.” 

“ I know very well.” The boy flung the words at 
her, while his eyes blazed and his little form grew 
rigid with the passion of a fancied wrong. 66 I know 
very well that if I do not go to school and learn like 
other boys, that I shall grow up a dunce ; Uncle Robert 
says so; and all the other boys will laugh — but they 
shall not laugh at me.” 

Winnie did not hear him now. One sentence only 
rang within her ear, and struck with cruel force upon 
her heart. “ I shall hate you ! I shall hate you, for- 
ever and forever!” She had borne so much, but this 
she could not bear! The child meant what he said; 
she knew that, for she knew that he was of the 
temperament to bear the burden of a grudge for 
long. 

“ Wait here, Malcolm,” she said, with a calmness 
which was all assumed, “ I will speak to your uncle ; ” 
and she left him and crossed the hall, but twice she 
swayed as she passed from room to room. 


218 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


And still she did not look for aid to the Power 
which alone can help man in his greatest need! 

Entering the study, she shut the door and waited 
for a moment silently before her brother. Though 
neither knew it then, she stood at the cross-roads in 
her life and chose the one that leads to death. 

For still she did not look for succour to the Power 
which held it ready to her hand, could she but have 
trusted all to Love. 

A voice finally broke the silence. Seemingly the 
voice was not her own ; and yet it must be ; but she 
thought she heard it from a distance, as though an- 
other spoke. 

“ I have come to say, . . . the choice appears 

to lie between Christian Science and the love of my 
child; I choose,” she moistened her lips, and Robert 
had to bend a little forward to hear the last few words, 
“ I choose — God forgive me for it — I choose the — 
love — of — my — child ! 99 

As she spoke those last words, Winnie stood for a 
moment upright, then slowly she leant back, still hold- 
ing herself rigidly straight, against the closed door: 
suddenly she threw out an arm upon either side, and 
with nervous grasp held each lintel fast. Her face 
was drawn, and quite slowly her eyelids dropped upon 
her eyes. Her white dress hung in straight folds about 
her, and thus her figure formed the impress of a human 
cross against the dark oak panels. 

Robert leant forward and called her sharply by her 
name, and, at that moment, a picture was painted 
upon his mind which was one day to arise and torture 
him, as he had tortured Winnie; full measure he one 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 219 

day received — 44 good measure, pressed down, and 
shaken together.” 

Even now he suffered, though he would not let his 
sister see it. This thing that God demanded of him, 
was almost the hardest He had asked as yet; but He 
should not find him wanting — he would obey. Rather 
had he plucked out his right eye than hurt the sister 
whom he loved; but God ordered otherwise and — he 
must obey. He must recall this straying lamb and 
bring her back, if need be, by the scourge and cross 
into the only true fold. 

Three doctors stood around her bed, but Winnie took 
no note of them ; 44 The wages of sin,” she murmured, 
through parched and quickly moving lips, 44 the wages 
of sin is death ; ” and once, and once again, “ whoso- 
ever killeth you shall think that he doeth God service.” 

Four black frock coats! Three kind and thoughtful 
faces, the fourth, stern and white. 

44 And what,” Mr. Saul asked, 44 has caused my sis- 
ter’s death ? ” 

44 Undoubtedly some shock.” One man answered for 
all, and all agreed. Then he continued, 44 There is 
every appearance of great nervous suffering. Doubt- 
less,” he added kindly, 44 Mrs. Stuart felt her hus- 
band’s sudden death very much. I was attending her 
when she received the news, you remember.” 

44 Her husband’s death ! ” Robert seemed to him- 
self to laugh, but in a horrid, silent way. His face, 
he knew, was grave and motionless. Her husband had 
died a year ago and more! 


220 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


“ Yes,” he answered steadily, deliberately accen- 
tuating what he knew to be a lie. “No doubt, it was 
4 her husband’s death ’ ; ” and it seemed to him that 
something within him laughed again, but this time 
louder than before, for had he not seen Winnie bright 
and well only a week ago — a year and more after her 
husband’s death! 


Poor Winnie — poor weak child — tried in the fire and 
found wanting! Couldst thou but have borne the 
cross and despised the shame a little longer, Love held 
for thee a glorious crown. Poor little suffering one, 
fast-locked within the deep mesmeric sleep, close 
prisoned in the vault of dark oblivion, while yet on 
earth! . . . Death has delayed thy journey upwards 
for awhile, for thou hast bowed to him, while man 
should bend the knee to Life and Life alone. Poor 
little one! Death, man’s most cruel and relentless foe, 
cannot but darken his path, and turn his face from God. 
Let him not dream that it will help him to ascend; 
rather does it drag him down and rock him deeper 
in the Adam-sleep. False friend, made all of lies! 
But take thou heart, dear little one. God is every- 
where and loves thee well. I know not where thou art, 
nor upon what plane of thought thy work must now 
be done. But this I know, that God is everywhere 
and waits to wrap thee in His love. The proble'm has 
been worked out wrong and must be done aright; but 
the Principle remains the same , and thou must start 
afresh and do thy work again. Fear thou not, but turn 
thy face about and speed thy faltering steps towards 
the throne of grace. Thy recantation has cost thee 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE Ml 

dear and made thy journey longer than it need have 
been; but fear thou not. For unto seventy times seven 
shalt thou be forgiven. Listen, little sister! Thou 
didst fear, and fear is sin. . . . But much more 

did thy brother sin against thee even unto death. But 
to what hast thou succumbed? To naught but to a 
false and uncrowned king; to naught but to a great 
usurper whom men obey, because they think they must. 

Awake! Awake! thou Christian world. Rise up 
and kill the devil Fear, who chains thee prostrate to 
the earth, before this phantom king, whom men call 
Death. But where then is his sceptre? and who gave 
it him ? What then is his mandate? where his juris- 
diction? Who gave him either ? What then is this 
thing which men call Death? In truth, ’tis nothing 
but delusion, a thing of naught, because it comes not 
from the only God; what is it but a giant lie, child of 
the devil — False Belief. 

Oh, haste thee, haste! thou Christian world, arise 
and pray. Wrap thee round in robes of Light, for 
only thus canst thou safely war against the lie. Rise 
up and sweep the shadows from the past. In holy 
rebellion, rise up and slay. For long ago the fiat 
was sent forth! “ Hear, O Israel: the Lord Thy God 
is one Lord.” There is no other: and, “ God is not 
the God of the dead, but of the living.” Hear, and 
understand, thou sleeping world! For, ringing down 
throughout the ages, comes the mighty voice of God, 
stirring to joyous action those who watch, and work, 
and pray. What says the majesty of mind? — “Re- 
move the diadem and take off the crown,” till He 
whose right it is shall reign. Thus shall be brought 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


to pass the saying ; “ Death is swallowed up in vic- 
tory.” Awake! thou sleeping world, and hold thy 
thought to Life, for thus only shall the corruptible 
become the incorruptible ; thus only can the mortal put 
on immortality! 


CHAPTER XXV 


HATE 

Something the heart must have to cherish. 

Must love, and joy, and sorrow learn. 

Something with passion clasp and perish 
And in itself to ashes burn. 

— Longfellow. 

Mr. Saul returned from his sister’s funeral feeling 
anxious about his little nephew. Malcolm had not, 
to his knowledge, shed a single tear, nor had he volun- 
tarily made a remark, since his mother’s death. Rob- 
ert did not know much about children it is true, but 
he felt that it would have been more natural had 
the child cried his heart out for a day or two and then 
become comparatively cheerful. But Malcolm was at 
all times unlike other children, and his uncle was puz- 
zled to know how to handle him. His longing was 
to keep the boy by his side, for it was only now that 
he began to realise how lonely he himself was, and 
how much he had formerly depended upon Winnie’s 
gentle, loving presence. So far he had found him- 
self quite unable to settle down to his usual routine 
of work or reading. Instead of spending some hours 
a day in his study, he moved restlessly from room to 
room, writing a note here, reading a few chapters of 
some book there. At times he would suddenly leave 
the house and take a long walk, usually very late at 


£24t THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


night, when the streets were comparatively deserted. 
It was at this period of Robert Saul’s life that this 
restless habit first became established; later it ruled 
him against his will, as the despot rules the slave, 
calling him forth night after night while others slept. 
Just now the mental disturbance caused by his sister’s 
sudden death was accentuated by a shock which he 
received soon afterwards. 

A foreign letter, bearing many postmarks, was 
handed to him one evening by the postman as he en- 
tered his house. It was addressed to Mrs. Stuart, 
care of her Calcutta agent. Upon opening it, Mr. 
Saul found that it bore the signatures of a firm of 
lawyers in China. He had barely read two lines, be- 
fore he let the thin sheet of closety written notepaper 
flutter to the floor. But he was not the man to shirk 
an unpleasant duty, and so he picked up the letter 
and read it to the end. 

That night he sat in his study for hours and fought 
out a big fight. The early morning found him in his 
great armchair and still awake. At last he roused 
himself from his long reverie and put the letter away 
in his most private drawer. 

“ I will invest it well for the boy,” he thought, “ so 
that when he is of age he will come into his own 
with interest. But I will not tell him that he has 
been left his paternal uncle’s heir. I am his guardian, 
and he shall believe himself to be dependent upon me; 
and thus he will learn to lean upon me, and love me 
better than anyone else in all the world! I will be to 
him a father, and he shall be to me a son, and all 
I shall ever ask in return will be his love and his 
obedience.” 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


225 


Something Robert Saul must have to love, but that 
something must be all his own and must love him 
supremely and, loving, must lean upon him and obey 
him first of all. 

What more, Robert Saul, could you ask of anyone? 
and what hope have you that you will gain either love 
or obedience by initiating a course of deception un- 
worthy of your love? Yet so closely does error ape 
the word of Good that this man, hungering right- 
eously enough for the innocent love of a little child, 
believed himself to be using means justified by the end 
in view. Self-mesmerism! Arch-deception! what evil 
is there to equal the work of thy mesmeric hand? 

From this moment Mr. Saul deteriorated morally, 
though so subtle is the lie, that he recognised no 
downward step until one day, when bound and mana- 
cled with sin, he looked back at that which he once 
had been ; aye, and at that which he had meant to be ! 

It was a week since Winnie’s funeral, and Robert 
Saul called Malcolm into his study and told him that 
he had decided not to send him back to school, but 
himself to prepare him for Winchester. 

The boy’s face fell, but the iron of poverty had 
ground quickly and deeply into his heart, and he 
supposed that it would save his uncle money, and that 
therefore he could not protest. For was he not penni- 
less and dependent for his very food upon his gener- 
osity? Remembering later that Mr. Saul was both 
rich and kind, he was puzzled, and inclined to discard 
this explanation of his uncle’s action, but no other 
occurred to the child’s mind, and so, as is often the 
case, viewing the matter from a wrong point, he 
accepted an erroneous conclusion. 


226 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


That night Malcolm had been in bed quite an hour 
but was not sleeping, when Mr. Saul came into his 
room and sat beside his bed. 

“ Little man,” he said very kindly, “ I have come 
to tell you that you and I are both lonely people now, 
so shall we not love each other a great deal and take 
each other away for the Christmas holidays ? To Italy 
perhaps ! And then ” 

“ Shall I live with you always, Uncle Robert? ” the 
child interrupted, fixing large dry eyes upon the man 
who now bent over his bed and kissed him so tenderly. 

“ Always, Malcolm, except when you are at your 
public school and afterwards at the University.” 

“ And I shall not grow up a dunce, or be very, very 
poor? ” 

Mr. Saul winced as he heard the child repeat his 
own words. 

“ No, Malcolm,” he answered quickly, “ you shall 
have a splendid education and be quite rich one day.” 

With a half hysterical embrace, which Robert took 
for the manifestation of pure affection, the boy put 
both arms round his uncle’s neck and clung to him. 

“ Oh,” he cried, choking with dry, unchildlike sobs, 
“ I am so glad I have got you, Uncle Robert.” 

Mr. Saul did not answer, but laid the little lad back 
upon his bed and sat by his side for a few moments 
longer, soothing and comforting him with words so 
loving and so gentle that they would have amazed 
even those who knew him best. 

It was dusk now, and neither perceived the figure of 
a woman in nurse’s uniform standing outside the bed- 
room door. She stood listening intently to every word 
that passed, and as she listened, her hard and colour- 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 227 

less face took on a calculating look. Mr. Saul was 
now singing to the child in low, melodious tones a 
beautiful lullaby, and as he sang he gently smoothed 
the boy’s thick hair. The woman turned cautiously 
and crept quietly downstairs. 

Lifting her small bag from the hall chair, she pulled 
down her veil and let herself out of the front door. 

66 Good-bye,” she said to the butler, who entered 
the hall at that moment, “ I am called to another case, 
which, from all I hear, will end as this has done. I 
will send for my box.” She walked swiftly down the 
street and summoned a passing hansom. Giving her 
directions to the driver, she glanced up to make sure 
that the trapdoor was shut before she drew an envelope 
from her pocket; opening it, she took out a letter and 
read it once through. 46 Yes,” she decided, 44 I shall 
risk it, — two birds in the bush for me, especially as 
I am not sure of the one in the hand! A year hence, 
perhaps sooner, this should be worth a lot of money,” 
and she replaced the sheet of white paper, upon each 
side of which a few lines were written, in its cover 
and carefully locked it away in her bag. 

Arriving at her destination, this woman took into 
the sick room, where love was the supreme need, a 
depressing mental atmosphere of death, dishonesty and 
greed. 

But here let us pause long enough to pay a loving 
tribute to those numberless good women — those other 
nurses who lay down their lives in ceaseless labour 
for the sick, ministering to the mind and body diseased. 
With quiet heroism, which lets not the left hand know 
what the right hand doeth, they hourly perform duties 
which exhaust the nerves and wear out the body. 


228 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

Only one who has been soothed by the gentleness and 
love of some such ministering sister, can realise how 
earnestly they endeavour to ease the world’s great pain. 
To them, let all gratitude and honour be freely given. 
But, oh! the pity of it! that they should not know, 
or knowing, should not choose the better way, for 
thus man finds that obedient to the law of Justice 
and of Love his strength is ever equal to his need. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


CASTLES BUILT UPON SHIFTING SANDS 

Unless you can love as the angels may, ... O do not 
call it loving. 

— Mrs. Browning. 

Malcolm and his uncle spent the first part of the 
Christmas holidays in Italy, that land of silvern sky 
and blue water. Together they took long walks and 
held sage, old-fashioned converse among the orange 
groves of Rapallo. Sometimes the child, who had an 
ardent beauty-loving nature, would hold the man’s 
hand hard and pause to bury his face deep in a thick 
cluster of tea roses, whose lovely buds of palest terra- 
cotta, creaming into white, charmed him by the beauty 
of their curves and colour, and the delicacy of their 
rich perfume. From Italy they went to Crete, to 
Athens, and to Smyrna ; and closer grew the bond 
between them. As tenderly as any woman could have 
done, this stern man, who scarcely spoke to anyone, 
cared for the motherless child. Father and son, all 
supposed them to be. Malcolm developed during this 
journey into a perpetual note of interrogation, but he 
never seemed to weary his kind guardian. Sometimes, 
a rare delight, he would be allowed to sit up late, and 
then beautiful talks about nature’s mysteries above, 
below, and all around them would ensue. 


230 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


Mr. Saul delighted in giving instruction to the child, 
who was remarkably clever. It was pure pleasure to 
this reticent man to unfold his ideas before a condition 
of mind so receptive as was Malcolm’s. He promised 
himself the joy of preparing the boy for a brilliant 
career. He would — certainly must — take a scholar- 
ship at Winchester and, later, at the University. Time 
enough then, to decide in what line he should specialise, 
but not unnaturally, Mr. Saul mentally mapped out a 
life of honour and renown in the Church of England 
for him. Thus Malcolm daily became more and more 
an integral part of his uncle’s inmost life. 

And if a gnawing doubt would sometimes whisper 
in the man’s ear, he quickly and sternly ordered it 
away. What if Malcolm’s face was pale? What if 
deep rings of violet marked a circle beneath his eyes? 
His mother’s skin had been extremely fair, and so 
was Malcolm’s, that was all ! This constant travel- 
ling was perhaps too exciting for so intelligent a child. 
They would go home and settle down to steady work, 
and then the boy would eat and sleep like others of 
his age. 

Work, Robert Saul! when all the time the child 
is needing childish play and the rough and tumble of 
a schoolboy’s life! O fond and blind! Letting thy 
every wish be father to thy thought ! Does no memory 
stir within thy heart? Hast thou forgotten that 
other boy, too sensitive of nerve, too large of head, 
who stood, as Malcolm stands to-day, the victim of a 
hot-bed growth? That boy (thou surely must remem- 
ber!) was saved by the normal life of boyish games 
and the give-and-take of boarding school. Hast thou 
forgotten that picture of the past? Then it would 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


231 


seem that some sharp reminder should come thy way 
before it is too late! 

* • • • • 

Mr. Saul and his little ward returned to London 
in January and soon settled down into a regular rou- 
tine of lessons, at which the child worked so well and 
so willingly that his uncle never guessed that the demon 
pride was urging him on beyond his strength. How 
should he guess? He knew nothing of the scalding 
tears which fell, night after night, as the weary little 
head calculated for the twentieth time how soon he 
could be finished with his education and earn the money 
for his keep ; for then , he cried in childish ignorance, 
I will soon pay Uncle Robert back all that I cost him 
now. 

Yet he loved his uncle in a sort of famished way; 
and would have loved him more, had not something 
held him back ; what this something was he did not 
know, for childlike he never analysed the wall which 
pride, and a man’s mistake, had built between them. 
Then one day Mr. Saul met Lady Margaret Courcy 
at the house of a mutual friend, and for a time he 
became less observant of Malcolm. Remembering that 
Margaret Courcy’s house was always open to him, he 
upbraided himself in that he had not sooner made use 
of her to forward his great desire. 

“ Fool ! ” he exclaimed beneath his breath, “ not 
to have thought of this before.” 

The next day he called upon her, for, he argued, 
surely he must sooner or later meet Cecil Gwynne 
there. 

But he did not meet her, nor did Lady Margaret 
ever mention her. Repeated disappointments made 


232 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


him impatient, and finally he spoke to Lady Mar- 
garet of the matter near his heart. 

“ I want,” he said, “ your help ; I believe that I 
was hasty, even prejudiced perhaps, when I broke off 
my engagement with Lady Cecil. I wish now to dis- 
cuss the matter with her, for as she said that day, 
‘ Surely there must be some way out of the difficulty.’ 
I will enter into the detail of Christian Science with 
her and discuss it with an open mind, and maybe I 
shall find that I was wrong. Will you help me,” he 
added earnestly, “ and arrange a meeting in this 
house ? ” 

The request was frankly proffered, but Margaret 
Courcy knew Mr. Saul well, and knew him to be a man 
not easily moved from a position once assumed. 

She paused long before answering him ; then lifting 
her clear eyes to his, “ No,” she said gently, “ 1 cannot 
do that.” There was no hesitation in her voice and 
Mr. Saul understood her perfectly. The blood flew 
into his face, and shame dropped the lids upon his 
eyes. 

Lady Margaret knew that he had lied; knew that 
his mind was no more open now than it had been 
upon the day when he called this thing a “ blasphe- 
mous creed ” ; knew that he so desired to win Cecil 
Gwynne for his wife that he, Robert Saul, had stooped 
to the use of a subterfuge! 

He had not fully known this himself, until he stood 
there silently awaiting Margaret Courcy’s answer. 
Now he saw himself as something to be despised, and 
it angered him and caused him stubbornly to pursue 
his purpose. He declared that the end should justify 
the means, and that the regaining of a woman such as 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


Cecil Gwynne to the true faith was a work which God 
would surely bless. 

He left Lady Margaret’s house, and went direct to 
Grosvenor Square. 

“ Lord Brecon ? ” he asked. The man immediately 
opened the library door and showed him in. The 
Earl was there and for a long time they talked, but 
there was never any question as to how the interview 
would end. Mr. Saul was by far the clever man of the 
two, and Lord Brecon, his mind more immersed than 
ever in his books, was all unready to meet a situation 
so unexpected as that which his old friend now pre- 
sented to him. So it happened that when Cecil en- 
tered the drawing-room at five o’clock that day, she 
found her brother and Mr. Saul standing by the fire, 
chatting quietly while they awaited the arrival of 
the tea tray. 

Her face grew suddenly grave, for, in all the world, 
no meeting was more unexpected than this. She went 
forward, however, and greeted Mr. Saul so calmly that 
he was a little disappointed, as he watched her nar- 
rowly while she busied herself with her duties at the 
table. 

He was surprised to find how difficult the situation 
had suddenly become. He had not realised that the 
touch of Cecil’s hand would throw him back so com- 
pletely into the past. He found that he spoke with 
embarrassment, and was inclined to let Lord Brecon 
and his sister sustain the conversation. Lady Cecil’s 
perfect self-possession, however, inevitably set him at 
ease, and soon the three were discussing matters of 
common interest to the world in which they moved. 
He was, however, inwardly excited to a degree quite 


234, THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

beyond his experience of himself, and was consequently 
glad to fall in with Lord Brecon’s suggestion that 
they should walk as far as his club together. 

Bidding his hostess a formal adieu, he left the room 
with the Earl, but not until he had accepted an invi- 
tation to lunch at Grosvenor Square the next day. 

Lord Brecon gave the invitation, but asked his 
sister so pointedly whether she would be at home, that 
courtesy compelled her to second it. 

In this way it came about that the following day 
found Cecil Gwynne and Robert Saul alone together 
once more. Robert had quietly entered the drawing- 
room when the Earl retreated to his library directly 
after luncheon. It was not Mr. Saul’s way to beat 
about the bush, and immediately he found himself 
alone with Cecil Gwynne, he told hei 4 why he was 
there. 

“ I have come,” he spoke calmly, though he found 
that his voice was not entirely under control, “ to 
ask you if you will explain Christian Science to me. 
I have been brought into close contact with it of late 
and I want to know more about it.” So cleverly 
does self-deception do its work that for the moment 
he meant what he said, and believed, or almost be- 
lieved, that he had brought with him an open mind. 

Cecil Gwynne hesitated. That which had seemed 
possible to her a year ago was no longer so, for her 
growth, though slow, had. been straight and sure. 
Some higher motive must be the impelling and com- 
pelling force, before she could respond to any such 
request as Robert now made. Still, who was she to 
judge her brother hastily? So she talked to him 
of that which had become her very life, and so en- 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


235 


grossed was she by the interest of her subject, that 
the man to whom she spoke became to her simply 
as one who needed help, and in so far as it was purely 
personal, the past and future faded from her thought. 

But it was not so with Robert Saul. He scarcely 
heard a word she said. Indeed he made no further 
effort than that demanded by common politeness to 
take part in the conversation, but gave himself up to 
the pleasure of once more being with Cecil Gwynne. 
More desirable than ever she seemed to him to be ; 
and he watched her as she sat there, with the bright 
light of the fire playing round her feet and making 
dancing shadows upon her dress. 

Outside the air was hopelessly darkened by a fog, 
unusually dense even for London, and Cecil had early 
ordered the curtains to be drawn. The room was full 
of light and colour, for she loved both and had the 
rare gift of filling her rooms with them to an extent 
which created contentment, but never a sense of sur- 
feit, even in the minds of the most critical of her 
visitors. Robert, seated luxuriously upon a couch, aban- 
doned himself to the joy of the hour. He deliberately 
silenced each scruple that arose and faced him, and, 
as he watched Cecil’s sweet face, now grave, now full 
of joy, he thought only of his love for her and scarcely 
heard a word she said. She loves me, he thought, and 
is glad that I have come. Thus egotism whispered in 
his ear and filled his heart with that which he wished to 
believe the truth. 

That was a red letter day for Robert Saul, or so 
he thought at the time. 

He returned home to find Malcolm eagerly awaiting 
him at the tea table. 


236 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


44 Look, Uncle ! ” he exclaimed, 44 what I have done.” 

Mr. Saul took the paper which the boy held out, 
and even he, who knew the child so well, was surprised 
at that which the young hand had laid upon it. 

44 My boy,” he said gravely, 44 this is excellent, and 
I am very pleased.” 

Commendation was rare from his uncle, and Mal- 
colm’s eyes glistened as he slowly waded through the 
bread and butter which his uncle placed before him. 
He was not hungry, he seldom was, and he knew that 
if he dawdled long enough over one slice he would not 
be observed, nor told to take a second. 

After the boy had gone to bed, Mr. Saul examined 
the problem which Malcolm had both set down and 
worked out, unaided, during his absence that after- 
noon, and he realised that it was indeed a remarkable 
achievement for a child so young. How thankful he 
was that the boy had brains ! Stupidity was at all 
times trying to him, but in his ward it would have been 
unbearable. 

While he sat over his desert that night, he received 
a letter from his lawyers suggesting to him a most 
advantageous investment for Malcolm’s fortune. It 
seemed certain to yield a handsome increase. The boy 
would be rich one day! The capital still remained in 
the bankers’ hands, for Mr. Saul was the last man to 
move hurriedly in the matter of another’s money, and 
he must assure himself of the safety of any proposed 
investment, before he would withdraw one penny of the 
child’s newly acquired wealth from the safe keeping of 
the bank. 

Yes, things were brightening indeed. Soon Cecil 
would be his wife — how had he ever dreamed of life 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 237 


without her? — and Malcolm, the dear little lad, as 
happy as ever he had been with Winnie’s arms about 
him. For Cecil would love him and care for him as 
though he were her own. Years hence, when Malcolm 
should be like a son to them both, Robert would tell 
him of this rich legacy and delight him with his own 
with interest. But he would not tell him yet, for he 
wished the child to turn to him for everything, and 
thus learn to lean upon him for every need. 

. . . And all the time a woman, colourless and 
hard of face, with evil in her heart, held a slip of 
paper which might any day meet his eye and in one 
moment cut asunder bonds never bound by Truth. 

But Mr. Saul knew nothing of this, and so he 
smiled as he sipped the one glass of excellent claret 
which was all that he ever drank at night, and wove 
bright fancies into a radiant whole, which soon he 
meant to call his own. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE FLOOD-TIDE 
There is death in the pot. 

— II. Kings. 

But very soon Mr. Saul found that he had miscal- 
culated his powers of self-control. Since the day upon 
which he had lunched at Grosvenor Square, he had 
failed to find Lady Cecil Gwynne disengaged; he saw 
her and spoke to her often, but always in the presence 
of others, and he felt that he was not progressing in 
the least. 

To be much with her and not to betray his purpose 
became each day more impossible. Then at last chance 
seemed to favour him. Indeed it appeared to him to 
be more than chance, for it seemed to him that Lady 
Cecil deliberately made an opportunity for them to be 
alone together. This, to a man of his temperament, 
with his whole thought held fast to the one objective, 
could only indicate one thing, and he instantly con- 
cluded that Cecil Gwynne was as desirous of holding 
close converse with him, as he was anxious to be alone 
with her. Thus, with the precipitation which had 
already cost him dear, he! did not wait to feel his 
way, but told her that he found himself quite unable 
to live without her, and that he had determined not 
to allow any difference in their religious opinions to 
stand between them. 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 239 

“ D° you mean,” Lady Cecil asked, as soon as 
her astonishment permitted of speech, “ that you are 
prepared to marry a Christian Scientist ? ” 

“ I mean,” he answered impetuously, “ that I am 
prepared to marry you under any circumstances. I 
plead only for as little delay as possible.” 

But Cecil Gwynne, though she knew that she would 
never love any man as she loved Robert Saul, knew 
also that such a marriage could not lead to anything 
but pain. Her religion had become to her the essen- 
tial of her life, inseparable from the practical details 
thereof ; and she saw that Robert did not in the least 
understand this. She realised instantly that he hoped, 
once they were married, to mould her views to his. 
This she knew he could never do; and she felt certain 
that he would — once the first flush of his happiness in 
possessing her were over — try to do so and would 
spare no effort to bend her will to his. Much of this 
she tried to tell him, but he would not take the answer 
which she finally gave him. 

He wrote to her that night a letter full of passionate 
pleading, even humble in its tone — a letter into which 
the starving man threw himself whole-souled. Every 
line lived with the force of his love for her, every word 
throbbed with his longing for her. Always eloquent, 
that night he surpassed himself. He was, for the 
time being, moved out of himself and lifted into a realm 
of unprejudiced thought and unself ed love. 

For a day and a night, and half a day, Cecil 
Gwynne carried the letter with her; and her face grew 
stern and a little hard, by reason of the battle that 
raged within her heart. 

If she could only be sure that Robert would keep 


240 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


his word and leave her free to worship where she 
would! But she knew him well; knew that, though 
he loved her, he loved power too, for he had in the 
course of years formed a fixed habit of personal con- 
trol which now would not brook denial. 

Thus the argument went on, for she loved him 
second only to her God. Now Sense rose up and 
wooed her with its subtle smile, while whispering of 
the joy that might be hers, if she would but dare to 
take a little risk. Then with soft hand it touched 
another chord and prophesied of a loveless life, remind- 
ing her that she had never loved any man before, nor 
would again. But here Spirit made swift reply: — 
In Science, Man, united to his God, cannot be unloved, 
for he that dwells in God, dwells always in the very 
arms of Love. Then once more Sense, failing to en- 
tice, turned its double face about and made mournful 
moan of a lone old age preceded by those years of fad- 
ing girlhood, wherein a woman, despised and rejected 
of mankind, becomes embittered of her life. But clear 
and sweet there sounded in her heart a message borne 
upon angel wings, and the voice of Truth spoke soft 
and low, telling her of those who serve the Master, 
and serving, learn that in Science there is no age nor 
fading flower, for man’s calendar must wane when 
comes the understanding of Eternity. 

That afternoon the Earl of Brecon sat alone deeply 
interested in the book before him, when his sister 
entered the library and said abruptly, “ I am going 
to Invergach for a week and shall start to-night.” 

Lord Brecon looked up quickly. “ So suddenly ? ” 
he asked. “I . . . ” then he immediately changed 

his tone to one of quiet consent, for he read something, 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


241 


though not all, of the pain in his sister’s eyes. 46 1 
will see you off. Have you wired to Aunt Eleanor? ” 

“ She is not there,” Cecil replied, as she quietly 
left the room. “ She started for Switzerland to-day, 
and I am glad, for I would rather be alone.” 

The Earl did not speak as he drove to the station 
with his sister that evening. Though leading a nar- 
row, egotistical life, he was not wanting in discern- 
ment, and he felt himself to be in the presence of one 
of those critical situations which are best left to the 
management of those primarily concerned. He bought 
Cecil a quite unnecessary number of papers, saw that 
she was secure from intrusion, himself ordered her 
every comfort of which he could think for the journey, 
and finally stood silently beside her awaiting the depar- 
ture of the train. 

Cecil was grateful for his attention. The footman 
or her maid could have done for her all that he now 
did, but it gave her comfort to realise that her brother 
cared enough for her to make such a willing sacrifice 
of time and trouble. To a man of Lord Brecon’s 
habits it was a considerable sacrifice, and his sister 
keenly appreciated his tactful kindness, the more so, 
perhaps, because they had quite consciously drifted 
far apart during the last year; the woman steadily 
pursuing her search for Freedom’s larger life, while 
the man became daily more closely immeshed in toils 
of human mechanism. For years he had been intensely 
dissatisfied with his religious life and was now so weary 
of the many questions to which he could obtain no 
answer that he was rapidly retiring before the foe and 
seeking a fictitious peace in that mental supineness, 
which is unworthy of any such designation as that of 


242 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


peace. But there is a vast majority, and Lord Brecon 
made one of them, who believe perfection to be unat- 
tainable, and therefore accept a second best, when all 
the time man’s birthright entitles him to perfect good. 
His sister’s religion was a matter which, not unnat- 
urally, seriously disquieted the Earl of Brecon. True, 
he knew nothing of it, except what he gleaned from 
sermons preached against it and from antagonistic 
articles published occasionally in the daily papers ; 
but it shocked him by its unorthodoxy, and it seemed 
to him that Cecil was pursuing a terrible, and indeed 
dangerous, course in following a religion which differed 
from that of the Catholic Church ; for he believed, in 
spite of his perplexity, that the Catholic Church was 
the only true fold. He had, however, no conclusive 
proof to offer his sister in support of his views, and 
thus it was that the subject nearest to the heart of 
each was tacitly never referred to by either. 

Much of this passed through his mind as he stood 
beside the carriage door waiting the lifting of the 
guard’s green light. Now the shrill whistle sounded 
and the great train trembled, as it prepared to start 
upon its northward journey. 

Lord Brecon roused himself from the anxious reverie 
into which he had fallen and gravely answered his sis- 
ter’s good-bye, kissing her gently as he did so. 

Then he turned and leaving the station walked 
quickly westward, not staying his steps until he en- 
tered his house in Grosvenor Square. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


A BARQUE— STORM-TOSSED UPON A STORMY SEA 

Earth’s crammed with heaven, 

And every common bush afire with God; 

But only he who sees, takes off his shoes. 

And the rest sit round it and pluck blackberries. 

— Mrs. Browning. 

Nine days had come and gone since that upon which 
Lady Cecil Gwynne had left London, but she remained 
alone at Castle Invergach, for still the battle raged 
between sense and Soul. 

To-morrow she must return to London, for her work 
there needed her; but it was with a heavy heart that 
she rose from the table upon this, her last morning 
among the peaceful surroundings of the country. Not 
that her environment had brought her peace. Per- 
haps she had relied too much upon the quiet of the 
material conditions around her. One cannot travel 
away from oneself, unless one travels upwards, and 
so far Cecil Gwynne had failed completely to realise 
this. 

Now she called to the black Newfoundland who in- 
variably accompanied her upon her rambles, and leav- 
ing the small room, where she breakfasted upon the 
rare occasions which found her alone at Invergach, 
she paused upon the balcony outside, resting her folded 
arms, breast high, on the stone wall that curved around 
243 


244 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


its length and formed the heading of a turreted cham- 
ber below. 

The dog Davie was perplexed, for his alert eye had 
observed his mistress continually ever since she first 
rose from the table, and he had seen her place biscuits 
in the pocket of her short tweed skirt. The day was 
perfect, and everything pointed to a longer walk than 
usual. He had no objection to that. Indeed, his 
only complaint was that they did not start at once. 
Eagerly watching his companion as she stood beside 
him, the dog awaited, with what patience he could, 
her order to move forward. But she did not give it. 

Presently Cecil Gwynne raised her head, and gazed 
above the distant tree-tops, seemingly seeking to pene- 
trate the veil of ether which curtained her vision with 
delusive limitations. So still she stood, and for so 
long, that Davie, growing restive, rose high upon 
his strong hind legs and gently placed his glossy paws 
upon the low stone wall beside her. Still she did not 
move, except to lift her gaze a little higher. This 
would not do at all! and, so deciding, Davie ventured 
to rest his great head softly against her breast. Ah I 
at last she noticed him and put her arms about his 
shoulders, thus drawing him a little nearer to her 
heart. So far, so good, but still she gave no sign of 
onward moving. 

“ Ya-wuff!” and having said so much, Davie was a 
little frightened and promptly closed his eyes and 
seemed to be most innocent. 

The girl stooped and pressed a long soft kiss upon 
his head, but that was all. But it was not enough 
for Davie, because, just then, he wanted more. The 
sun was shining with bewitching smile, and the strong 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 245 


moorland air was calling to him! What sprite of 
dreamy fortune had chained his mistress to this strange 
forgetfulness? He tried a rush down the rough stone 
stairs and up again ; she did not even look at him ! 
Now it became necessary to consider deeply what had 
best be done. Thus Davie sat upon his haunches look- 
ing very wise but not for long; with three big bounds 
he reached and passed the silent girl — more clumsily 
than he need have done — but wake the lazy lady up 
he must! Tearing into the house he almost instantly 
returned; with tail held high and shoulders proudly 
poised, he clattered through the hall, and dropped a; 
large thorn stick, with deliberate noisiness, upon the 
paved terrace below. Ah ! she moved at last and, turn- 
ing, patted the expectant animal upon the head. 

But she did not speak to him, not at any rate as 
Davie counted speech. Something she said indeed, but 
in sorrowful accents, unrestful and full of pain, direct- 
ing her gaze the while, not at him, but away, up and 
on over those distant tree-tops. 

“ 4 The flesh,’ ” she whispered, 44 4 lusteth against the 
Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh: and these are 
contrary the one to the other: so that ye cannot do 
the things that ye would.’ ” Then, with visible effort, 
she roused herself and followed the dog, who, losing 
no time, now led her quickly down the steps and on 
towards the moor; and Davie’s heart beat fast with 
the triumph of his canine cunning. His tail curled 
proudly and waved with stately grace, while his body 
swayed comfortably as he walked beside her, each glossy 
side rolling, now in, now out in turn, as is the manner 
with his tribe. 

Then came a walk, never to be forgotten by either. 


246 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


For Davie it held delights unspeakable; first came a 
swim in the lake, and while still some way from the 
bank, a deep dive, rewarded by a rich find — a large 
stone which he brought proudly to his lady’s feet. 
Then a glorious shake of glistening fur which waved 
the better for its wetting. In time they reached the 
moor, and Davie’s cup of joy was full! For now 
came mysterious hunts among the heather roots and 
lichen-covered rocks, varied by sharp, short gallops, 
there and back again. An expedition to the top of 
a wall, and a visit of inspection to the other side — an 
excursion fraught with some peril, for the wall was 
insecure, all weakened with old age, and very rough 
upon the top. And now, the crowning joy of all, an 
exciting hunt among the untold wonders of a disused 
quarry. 

Davie was too happy to observe that his mistress 
never spoke to him as she walked steadily forward 
with a more purposeful step than heretofore; nor did 
he knew that she had a definite goal in view, and a 
walk of some miles before her in order to reach it. 

Long ago they had left all human habitation be- 
hind. For some time the ground had been steadily 
rising and now they walked upon the heather-clad 
hills. The early promise of the day was not fulfilled. 
Dark clouds had gathered in the north and lay thick 
across the sky, while all the air was heavy with the 
threatening of a storm. Dull monochrome replaced 
the brightness of the morning’s colour, for greys had 
chased the blues away and thrown deep shadows upon 
all the country side. 

Davie was considering whether it was not time to 
rest and lunch, when his mistress called a halt, for 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 247 

they had reached the plateau towards which she had 
been directing her steps for more than an hour. Now 
she threw him the biscuits and watched him as he 
caught them one by one. So she continued to watch 
him, but with preoccupation in her gaze, as he care- 
fully selected the exact spot which he considered most 
suitable for his midday nap. Many times he needed 
to turn round and about, and much pawing of the 
ground was necessary, before his critical doggie mind 
was quite at ease; but at last he was fairly settled 
and curled himself contentedly down among the heather 
roots. He was a beautiful mass of wavy blackness, 
for his loose curls shone with satiny sheen wherever 
the fitful sunlight kissed them. With his noble head 
laid low upon his paws, he slept, as a good dog does, 
with one eye always open. 

Presently Cecil turned, and dropping her plaid upon 
a great boulder she lay full length upon its flat sur- 
face, while once again her eyes asked questions of 
the sky, and still their depths were troubled by the 
thoughts that would not let her rest. 

For long she remained almost motionless; then sud- 
denly, she turned and hid her face upon her folded 
arms ; and now her form quivered through and through, 
as the hot tears chased each other from her eyes and 
swept their way across her face. It was the sudden 
breaking of the storm that had pent her thought too 
long within a narrow earth-bound cell. But as a thun- 
der shower dispels the darkness that its own clouds 
have created, so now’ her storm-tossed thought was 
cleared, and presently she ceased her piteous moan 
and rested quietly. 

Davie watched her all the time, but did not speak 


248 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


to her, though once he rose, and gently pressed his 
head against her face. But he knew what trouble 
was himself, and also knew that he best could bear the 
worst alone. Should she want him, he was there, ready 
waiting upon her beck and call! 

But the girl did not need her faithful friend, dear 
though he was at all times to her. She was now in 
a world above the comprehension of even Davie’s lov- 
ing heart. 

Later she rose and deftly wound her plaid around 
her shoulders ; and now scarcely a sign remained upon 
her face of the great battle which she had so nearly 
lost. As she stood upon the granite rock, her feet 
firmly planted upon its smooth surface, the grey mantle 
which a distant storm had spread half across the sky 
was suddenly disturbed, and the sun broke up the 
even shadows which the dark cloud had cast upon the 
moor. 

Cecil Gwynne now stood outlined by light, for the 
sun fell full and strong behind her and filled the air 
around with penetrating brightness, while a fresh breeze 
caught her plaid and wrapped it closer to her form. 
Standing thus upright upon the rock, she threw her 
hands behind her and lightly rested the one upon the 
other, as she lifted her face towards the heavens above. 
Upon every side there stretched the silent moor, the 
brown at her feet undulating into the purple distance, 
which melted into closest union with the sky. And the 
blue form on high peeped into her eyes, and liking well 
what it found there, it rested long in their purity 
and peace, thus shadowing forth the mighty truth 
that, while yet on earth, man may reflect the glory of 
heaven. 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 249 


Softly her voice now fell upon the sunlit air, impelled 
by the holy peace which governed her. 

In all the world there is but one God. God, Spirit, 
boundless, limitless Substance — Mind. God, Life — 
the Alpha and Omega, the First and the Last, without 
beginning of years or end of days. God, Love — 
46 King of Kings, and Lord of Lords,” even the Great 
“ I Am.” 

Thus the storm was stilled, and the battle raged 
no more ; and thus it will ever be when sense shall yield 
to Soul, and man, new-born, affirms that 64 Good is 
All-in- All.” 


CHAPTER XXIX 


EGYPT 

In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell. 

— Byron. 

Mr. Saul sat in his study, his mind in a whirl, and 
an open letter in his hand. Could he do it? Yes! 
Must he do it? Why not someone else? But as he 
asked this last question his brow flushed with con- 
scious pride. Why not someone else? Because the 
matter was considered to be one of great importance, 
and he was known to be the most eloquent preacher 
in England. Yet for once he wished that this were 
not so. Dearly as he loved his gift, sacred as he 
deemed it to be, for once he wished that it were not 
his; for he still loved Cecil Gwynne, and he knew that 
he would always love her. Certainly, he could refuse 
to preach upon this subject, but apart from the re- 
luctance to give Cecil pain, he had no wish to refuse. 
He saw that the time had come when Christian Science 
could not longer be ignored : it must be grappled with, 
and by a master hand. It must be exposed, and at 
once, before it ensnared important members of the 
Church of England — men and women whose families 
had been for generations staunch upholders of the 
established Church of the land. A strong voice must 
be raised in protest, that he saw clearly enough ; but 
250 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


251 


he would rather that Cecil should not know that voice 
for his, for it would add to her pain that he should pub- 
licly denounce that which she believed herself to love. Of 
course, she was deluded and must in time see her mis- 
take. Of course, she did not really love Christian 
Science, but was merely infatuated by it for the time 
being. Nevertheless it appeared that many others, 
equally well-educated, equally intelligent, were likewise 
deluded ; and it is the educated classes which yet rule 
England. This Mr. Saul realised. This dangerous 
heresy must therefore be immediately exposed. He 
would not willingly hurt one hair of Cecil’s head; it 
was hateful to him to cause her one moment’s pain, but 
he must do his duty, and he was made of the stuff to 
do it the more readily, the more zealously, in spite 
of the personal suffering which it entailed. 

That afternoon he received a letter from Cecil 
Gwynne written from Invergach. He was at last con- 
vinced, for in it she told him decidedly that she could 
not marry him, while their views on the vital matter of 
religion differed so essentially, and in spite of himself 
he felt obliged to accept her word as final. He bitterly 
declared that Christian Science had robbed him of all 
that he considered worth the having. It did not occur 
to him that, if his religion were indeed all that a man’s 
religion should be to him, the real substance of life 
must still be his. He was suffering too keenly to 
reason logically, and as he brooded upon what was, in 
reality, his own misconception of the matter, his trouble 
assumed undue proportions in his eyes, and life be- 
came for him a distorted thing, for he saw nothing 
clearly. 

Now, a time of tempestuous energy set in for Robert 


252 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


Saul, and he filled his days and nights with work. But 
through all his busiest hours, there ran a strong cur- 
rent of passionate pain, and daily his rancour against 
this religion, of which in reality he knew scarcely any- 
thing more than the name, grew into a resentment which 
filled his heart with hatred and, worse still, with 
revenge. 

He knew his power and knew that many would 
follow without question wherever he should lead; so 
he decided to preach against Christian Science, and 
all the time he placed his motive for this mistaken 
crusade upon a pedestal which he himself had built. 
In reality, his life at this period was not inspired by 
any lofty aim, though self-deceived he did not realise 
how entirely it became coloured by his desire to hurt 
the thing which had caused him so much pain — to hit 
back at Christian Science! And all the time the only 
life his pain possessed was a false sense of life, with 
which he himself endowed it. The animal instinct, 
given rein, soon claimed him for its own, and yet Robert 
Saul had no idea that he was simply a puppet in the 
hands of elementary evil — a power at once secret, subtle 
and elaborate; whose arena is the world, whose tools 
are the hearts of men, women and little children ; — 
whose power is the power of darkness, even “ darkness 
which may be felt 99 ; a power which fears but one 
force, whose name it knows, but whose nature it mis- 
takes, deeming it close kindred to its own. Truly, 
Pharaoh still reigns in Egypt, and Rachel weeps once 
again for her little children ! 

Still the world sleeps on ! Religious, political, social 
England sleeps on, while luxury and lethargy weave 
bright fancies about her head. Thus she dreams of 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


253 


peace, in the midst of pain; she prates of freedom, 
while entwined in snarls ; she carols of life, while speed- 
ing towards her death. Does no whisper reach the 
throne of England’s King? Does no doubt steal slum- 
ber from him whose pomp is next to that of king? 
Does no question stir the heart of those who yet glean 
the freeholds that their fathers have gleaned from 
generation to generation? Does no fear blanch the 
cheek of woman with babe upon her breast? Does no 
tremor stir the heart of 46 them that are with child ”? 

Shall history indeed repeat itself, but in more awful 
guise? or will England awake, while yet there is time, 
and understand that 44 the mystery of iniquity doth 
already work ” and that tyranny, of a kind and to a 
degree before unknown, threatens to rule by every fire- 
side? So cautiously does the leaven work, so carefully 
does it don the robe of peace ; so wisely does it bear an 
old and honoured name, that men and women smile, 
whilst they nurse upon the breast the hooded asp, whose 
poisoned fangs lull them ever to a deeper sleep, a sleep, 
the ultimate of which is — death! 


CHAPTER XXX 


MESMERIZED 


Surely the wrath of man shall praise thee; the remainder 
of wrath shalt thou restrain. 


— Psalms. 


A few weeks later Mr. Saul informed his congrega- 
tion that he intended to preach two sermons upon the 
subject of Christian Science, and that he wished them 
to make his intention known to their friends, as the 
first would be delivered on the following Sunday. 
Many, the majority perhaps, had heard of this new 
theme; some few felt that, if so strange a thing could 
yet be true, then God’s love might become a tangible 
reality — a factor in their lives. But by far the greater 
number laughed the thing to scorn. Nevertheless 
many engagements were broken, and others postponed, 
in order that the day might be kept free; and during 
the week the subject assumed paramount importance at 
social gatherings in Mr. Saul’s parish. It was odd 
how keen the interest in it became. Perhaps some hint 
of the Vicar’s love story was in the air ; but much more 
it was, that sick people hungered to be well, though, 
with the suicidal instinct of the carnal mind, they 
pushed from them the only thing that stood between 
them and the grave. Unknowing of what they did, 
they cried for freedom, while electing to be slaves. 

So the whole parish went to hear what the Vicar had 
25i 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


255 


to say of Christian Science ; and upon that Sunday 
morning the church, always full, was filled to overflow- 
ing, while many could find no accommodation and so 
returned home disappointed, for there was not even 
standing room. 

Mr. Saul’s personal opinion carried so much weight 
that several who thought that they went with open 
minds, had already unconsciously decided to be guided 
by what their Vicar should say. 

And what did the Vicar say? 

His sermon had been carefully thought out night 
after night; no other sermon had ever taken him so 
long to write. Indeed it was his usual custom to preach 
extempore , but it had seemed to be out of the question 
to do so upon this occasion — his ideas appeared to 
stagnate and grow cold. But his intention to preach 
upon the subject of Christian Science had been adver- 
tised upon the housetops and must be executed up to 
time. It could not, for a moment, occur to such a man 
to abandon it. 

Now the time had come for him to carry it out, and 
he mounted the pulpit steps with trepidation in his 
heart, a sensation entirely new to him. It was the 
crowded congregation ! but he had preached before a 
King. It was that he deemed his duty somewhat hard, 
for he still loved Cecil Gwynne! but he had accepted 
it in obedience to his own desire. It was that the re- 
sponsibility was one of most unusual weight! but he 
was not wont to weigh the burden upon his shoulders. 
Blind and headstrong he did not realise that he had 
assumed this task in part at the prompting of a devil, 
named Revenge! Now masquerading in the guise of 
duty, it urged him to give back pain for pain. Robert 


256 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


Saul was far above that ignoble nature which will con- 
sciously strike one weaker than itself. He told himself 
that because Cecil Gwynne was so intimately connected 
with the matter, he suffered the more. It was not Cecil 
whom, even unconsciously, he wished to punish. He 
would willingly, nay preferably, have so arranged it, 
had such a thing been possible, that she should never 
know of the step which he felt called upon to take. It 
was Christian Science that had caused the great dis- 
quiet of his life, and it was Christian Science that he 
intended to destroy, before it did any more harm — 
before it deluded any more women such as the one 
whom he loved, or spoilt the lives of other men, as it 
had spoilt his own. 

With a mind thus filled with unrest, it was not to 
be expected that he should retain his usual self-pos- 
session upon this eventful Sunday, and Mr. Saul be- 
came conscious, before he had given out his text, that 
he must look to it or he would lose his laurels. Usually, 
his delivery was the perfection of refined utterance, 
calm and sweet in tone; to-day, an odd excitement 
caught and governed him, and once he almost ranted 
in what he deemed to be his righteous wrath. 

Malcolm sat below the pulpit steps and trembled; 
why, he could not have told; and when Mr. Saul ob- 
served the child’s pale face, anger rose anew within 
him, because Cecil was not there to tend the little fel- 
low as a mother might have done. 

At first, the congregation listened as one man, but 
as their Vicar’s sermon passed from mere statement on 
to what he intended as clever argument, Mr. Saul, 
whose sense to-day was hypersensitive, became aware 
that surprise, even disappointment, showed plainly 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 257 


upon the face of more than one valued member of his 
flock. Especially he noted one sitting there, his figure 
bent with age and his hair all silvered by his years of 
toil, and he knew him for a man whose face had grown 
most beautiful in the service of his Lord. His dress 
bespoke episcopalian rank, and the quiet dignity of his 
presence was silent witness to the consecration of his 
life. As Mr. Saul continued to preach, the sweet face 
grew clouded as with pain, and sorrow bowed the old 
man’s head. 

Doggedly determined to go through with that which 
he had come to do, Robert Saul turned each page of 
his carefully written discourse and continued to de- 
liver it with unusual emphasis. But as he left the 
pulpit, he understood perfectly that he had been de- 
feated, and again by the very thing that he had come 
to kill ; and he was filled with bitterness. His argu- 
ments, if such they could be called, he suddenly saw 
to have been weak and most illogical. But it only 
angered him the more and filled his heart with deeper 
rage against the power that stood invulnerable to all 
attack. 

Now, the service was over and the Vicar stood alone 
in the vestry. Sick at heart and strangely tired, he 
laid his surplice aside, pausing, as he did so, to register 
a mental vow that his second sermon upon this subject 
should outshine the first, as the sunlit heavens outshine 
the starlit sky. He had been feeling ill for some time ; 
no doubt that accounted for to-day’s failure and for 
this unusual lassitude. He would preach that other 
sermon, but first he would do some climbing in the Alps 
and return to town his usual self, and better. He and 
Malcolm would spend a quiet month in Switzerland. 


258 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


The child seemed ill, and yet the doctors could find 
nothing wrong; the bracing air would doubtless put 
him right and wake him into merry boyhood once 
again. 

As Mr. Saul decided this, he paused by the open 
window, and the voice of a passer-by reached him. He 
recognised it as that of a favourite parishioner. 

“ I am sorry that you should have heard our Vichr 
for the first time to-day; usually, he is clear and con- 
clusive, but to-day ” 

“ To-day,” an unfamiliar voice interrupted, “ he 
seemed to have no case at all ; I must search this matter 
to the core, for it seems to me to have more in it than 
I thought.” 

So that was all that he had done! Sent people to 
investigate the thing he hated most in all the world ! 

Deeply depressed he turned to shut the vestry door 
and, as he did so, faced an old man standing upon the 
steps, a man from whom he had received much and to 
whom he must therefore extend a cordial welcome, 
though he longed to be alone ; longed for the isolation 
of his study, in which to find again the imperturbable 
man of the moment, the master of every circumstance, 
who, he had believed until this morning, bore the name 
of Robert Saul! 

“ Robert,” — the old man paused — “ to your thirty 
years I can add another forty in which I have learnt to 
love mankind, but not enough! It is because I have 
watched your strenuous life, and watching, have learnt 
to love you , that I speak now and tell you that you 
have to-day made the mistake of your life ! ” 

Robert Saul was silent. Many words lay ready be- 
hind his set lips, and he had much ado to leave them all 


\ 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 259 

unspoken, but the very gentleness of the man before 
him forebade all interruption. 

“ Abuse, Saul, is no argument,” the elder man con- 
tinued, “ I know something of these people, and this 
is a little of what I know. One day I held a child upon 
my arm — a babe — and I knew, or thought I knew, that 
even while I marked the cross upon his brow, that babe 
would die. The child’s father stood before me, and I 
knew, or thought I knew, that death claimed him as 
well. But a stronger than death withdrew both child 
and man from the very jaws of death and, in the with- 
drawing, would seem to have so uplifted them, that the 
mind of each has risen higher year by year. That 
power which triumphed over death was Christian Sci- 
ence. I have watched the lives of many who follow its 
teaching, and I see that they are doing that which we 
have left undone . I see that their eyes are open, where 
ours are still shut. While you preached to-day, these 
words of the Master rang in my ears ; 4 And these 
signs shall follow them that believe ; In my name shall 
they cast out devils ; they shall speak with new tongues ; 
they shall take up serpents ; and if they drink any 
deadly thing, it shall not hurt them ; they shall lay 
hands on the sick , and they shall recover .’ Why has 
the Church throughout the ages, dissected the Lord’s 
command? Why have we not followed the Christ more 
wholly? Three years he ministered upon this earth, 
saving the sinner, healing the sick , and raising the 
dead. Why do not we do likewise? Why do not we 
lay hands upon the sick? Would they recover were we 
to do so? It seems to me,” and now the gentle voice 
was sad and very low, 44 that I must, after fifty years 
and more, ask myself, do I really believe? If so, why 


260 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


do I not ‘ heal the sick 9 and 4 raise the dead ’ ? In 
fact why do not the promised ‘ signs ’ follow us? Those 
promised signs do follow these people; the time to 
question that has passed. Can it be that their trust in 
God exceeds our own? Can it be that I, and others in 
the Church, have carried the wrong cross all along? 
Can it be that we are fighting only half a fight? I am 
actually tempted,” — and for a moment a youthful fire 
lit up the old man’s eye — “ I am actually tempted,” 
he repeated, as he turned and faced the man who stood 
before him in the obvious prime of life, “ to wish that I 
were you; to wish that I were young and strong and 
well equipped, as you are ; then I would start afresh 
and fight a new crusade. I would war, not only against 
sin, but against disease as well. Now, it is too late! 
Too late for me, but not too late for you ! for you have 
still the better part of your life before you ! Pray God 
that you may help, not hinder, this gracious work. 
Robert,” and now the sweet voice pleaded, and the 
gentle eyes grew more steadfast in their hope, “ at 
any rate let us ask a blessing upon all who, no matter 
what their creed, try to serve the Christ. And let us 
note their gentle tolerance. They do not abuse the 
Church ; on the contrary, they love all there is of good, 
wherever it be found; neither do they*' attempt to 
proselytise ; but wait until the hungry, unfed by us, go 
to them for food.” 

The Vicar grew hot with wrath, but he was dumb. 
He looked at the pure face before him; he knew that 
he talked with a man who had recently drunk the cup 
of human sorrow to the dregs, and he could not say 
the words he would; for love and meekness were in 
every word that the old man uttered, and, as Robert 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


261 


Saul looked again, he saw the sad lines deepen round 
the sensitive mouth ; he saw the soft shade of unshed 
tears dim the eyes that nevertheless held an holy light 
within their depths. Ashamed, he put forth his hand 
in silence and took the other’s thin fingers with his 
strong man’s clasp. And as he towered above the stoop- 
ing figure and thought upon the exceeding purity of 
the life which this man had lived, he held back the 
words of protest which rose to his lips and bade his 
friend of half a lifetime a courteous farewell. 

A venerable man lay dying. Those who loved him 
best stood around his bed. Suddenly he rose upon his 
pillows, and stretching forth both hands he threw a 
supplicating cry upon the air; “Work, my God! give 
me more work to do for Thee ! ” 

None there might hear the answer from on high, but 
every head bowed low, as in the presence of some 
holy thing. 

Then one stooped and took the feeble form upon his 
arm, while he rested the pure, wrapt face against his 
heart. Bending low he caught the message, which 
trembled through the dying lips and did its work for 
God, in the manner, and at the time, of God’s appoint- 
ing. Hearing the whispered words the young man’s 
strong face quivered, and his very lips grew pale. Re- 
bellious, he raised his head and threw it high : and now, 
no longer was there any need to strain the ear, for the 
sick man’s voice rose sweet and clear ; “ ‘ Preach, say- 
ing, The Kingdom of heaven is at hand. Heal the 
sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out devils : 
freely ye have received, freely give.’ ” 

Then a great calm fell upon the beautiful face, and 


262 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


a light of holy joy shone from the quiet eyes, ere the 
soft shadow of a gentle sleep o’ershadowed them. A 
woman’s sob smote upon the silent air, as a man’s 
voice, strange to Robert Saul, and yet his own, though 
surely impelled by a power not his own, slowly pro- 
nounced the solemn benediction; 

“ Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.” 


CHAPTER XXXI 


CLOUDS OF SENSE 

He is a fool who thinks by force or skill 
To turn the current of a woman’s will. 

— Tuke. 


Mr. Saul and his little nephew were back in London. 
Their sojourn in Switzerland had been a conspicuous 
failure. The high altitude had not suited Malcolm, 
and their holiday had been curtailed, for it now ap- 
peared that the child’s heart was seriously affected. 
Mr. Saul himself had not been well of late. While 
in Switzerland he had, for the first time in his life, 
tired easily when walking. Real climbing, at which 
he was a well-known expert, had this time proved to 
be out of the question. But at first he would not 
accept defeat, for it angered the usually strong man to 
fail, and it was not until repeated attempts to scale 
stiff mountain tracks invariably resulted in exhaustion 
the next day that he would admit himself beaten for 
a time; next year he would return and would then 
certainly succeed in mastering the passes which now 
mastered him. Immediately after his arrival in Lon- 
don he took Malcolm to the great child-specialist. 

Dr. Arthur was comforting ; he spoke soothingly and 
was emphatic in his declaration that no organic disease 
could have yet obtained any hold upon the boy’s system. 

263 


264 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


Mr. Saul was not satisfied, however, for his thought 
suddenly flew back nearly thirty years, and with a 
shock he remembered that his own mother — Malcolm’s 
grandmother — had died suddenly. He himself could 
not have been more than a toddling child at the time, 
but he had then received a mental impression which 
had never been erased; darkened rooms, low voices, 
weeping servants and a long procession of carriages ! 
He now remembered how, with boyish glee, he had 
shouted when he saw the black plumes as they waved 
above the hearse and clapped his hands as the horses 
moved forward. His nurse had scolded him, telling him 
that his mother was dead and that he ought to be 
breaking his heart about it. Later his father had 
taken him to the churchyard and, showing him a new 
grave, had there told him that his mother had died 
quite suddenly “ of heart failure.” This of course con- 
veyed very little to a child of four years old, but the 
dreary conviction was now borne in upon him that 
plainly “ weak heart ” was hereditary in his family, 
and that Malcolm bore the taint in his young system. 

With horrible reiteration a certain portion of the 
second commandment rang in his ears — “ Visiting the 
iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third 
and fourth generation.” What matter whether materia 
medica gave to the burden the name of “ heredity ” 
or “ predisposition ” ? What matter whether it were 
nerves, hysteria or organic disease, which killed men, 
women and children? Of what importance could the 
medical designation of the illness be compared to the 
fact of an untimely death? And how many of those 
700,000 deaths and over, which he knew occurred yearly 
in the United Kingdom, were untimely, even in the 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 265 


eyes of a callous world? The fate which pursued man 
born of delicate parentage was relentless, hopeless. 
What hope then was there for little Malcolm — a child 
whose mother and grandmother, aye, and others before 
that for aught he knew, had died from the same 
disease? 

What hope? Does the priest of God know so little 
of the word of God? What hope? Why this — the 
way of escape, the way to Life lies wide open to the 
world. Why does the man of God dissect the word of 
God? Why does the world turn its back upon the only 
door through which man can pass up to Life? “ Visit- 
ing the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto 
the third and fourth generation of them that hate me; 
and showing mercy unto thousands of them that love 
me, and keep my commandments ! ” What hope? Why 
this — he who fulfilled the law, he who epitomised the 
ten commandments in that one sublime word — love , — 
he, the practical Way-shower, further demonstrated 
that Love is Life, and that obedience to the law of Love 
results in everlasting life . 

But habit and common custom are stronger than a 
man in deep distress. They proved strong enough at 
any rate to obliterate from Robert Saul’s conscious 
thought the glorious promise with which Love and 
Justice had crowned the law of Life upon the Mount 
of Sinai. So he took Malcolm to another great spe- 
cialist, a “ heart ” man this time, never pausing to 
consider that a fountain can rise no higher than its 
source, and that the cleverest brain on earth can rise 
no higher than the matter-womb from whence it comes. 
The great doctor was also a most kindly man, and, 
after the white-faced child and the stern-faced man 


266 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


had left his consulting room, he asked himself many 
times and with despair in his weary eyes ; “ What more 
can I do? Is there nothing more known to science — 
no real aid for such as these to be found in the accumu- 
lated discoveries of the centuries ? ” 

From this time there began for Malcolm a period of 
hopeless invalidism which finally made him long to die. 
He had no words, of course, in which to formulate his 
captive’s cry, but his young wings beat wearily against 
the cage that the law of man daily built about him. 
What better than imprisonment was this -death in life 
which now was his? Ruled by drugs and diet, his days 
became one monotonous monochrome. 

Mr. Saul, who would have cut off his right hand to 
save the child, in the ignorance of his helpless love 
barred and bolted the prison gates. Nay, he even drove 
the boy deeper into the dungeon of despair, until his 
young heart pined and panted in an ever-narrowing 
cell. 

Summer passed and autumn found Malcolm Stuart 
no better, but the specialist still spoke cheerfully and 
ordered him to Cannes. 

Mr. Saul never hesitated. If his nephew must winter 
in the south of France, why so would he. His own 
prospects weighed not one jot with him, when Malcolm 
pressed down the scale upon the other side. 

So together they went to Cannes; and on his good 
days, the boy would seem to be his old bright self and 
would delight his uncle, who scarcely left his side, by 
talking in the clever strain which had first drawn the 
reserved man to the little child. But these good days 
were few and far between, and April found the boy no 
better, though no worse; except that his nerves were 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 267 

decidedly weaker. Now it was that his guardian’s love 
was severely tested, for Malcolm became quite unlike 
himself, easily irritated, jealous if Uncle Robert stayed 
longer from his side than usual, exacting and scarcely 
grateful for the deep devotion which the lonely man 
lavished upon him. Being so much with the child by 
day meant for his uncle hours of hard work at night, for 
Mr. Saul was the last man to neglect his parish for any 
private call upon his time, and letters — whole sheaves 
of them — arrived daily from England and had often to 
be answered by return of mail. 

So the two came back to London, and every day the 
iron entered more deeply into the soul of Robert Saul ; 
for struggle as he did with all his might, he still was 
beaten at every turn. Allopathy, homoeopathy, hy- 
giene, all were weighed and all were found wanting. 

Then one cold spring day things seemed to reach a 
climax. The evening papers contained grave news for 
widow and orphan and for many another besides. The 
large Indian bankers had failed, in whose hands Mr. 
Saul had left the whole of Malcolm’s fortune! 

Life for the last year had been for him so filled with 
the battle against death, that he had neither found 
time nor energy to invest the money. In one way it 
did not matter, he reflected, for he would of course 
make it up to Malcolm and that without delay. The 
sum needed to do this was large, and its withdrawal 
from his own capital would severely cripple him, but 
there was no question in his mind, for he held himself 
responsible for every penny of the fortune which was 
now lost to his nephew. True, the child knew nothing 
of the legacy, and his mother being dead, Mr. Saul 
remained the sole trustee, but at once he sent instruc- 


£68 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


tions to his lawyers to set the matter right for Malcolm 
Stuart. But, even as he sealed the letter, he gravely 
asked himself whether the boy would ever reap the 
fruits of what amounted to a very considerable sacri- 
fice upon his part. To economise was unnatural to 
Robert Saul, though he was too shrewd a man to be 
tempted to foolish extravagance. 

It was May now, and to-morrow, Mr. Saul suddenly 
decided, he would take Malcolm to the country on to 
the moors, for there the boy would renew his strength. 
Alone in his study, he declared aloud that Malcolm 
should not die! His passionate exclamation was full 
of the pain which constantly gnawed at his heart, but 
which he seldom dared to face. The London doctors 
were mistaken! He would take the boy to the good 
old village doctor who had saved his own life more 
than twenty years ago. Dr. Reynolds had fathered the 
village children for nearly a generation ; surely he un- 
derstood children and would tell what ailed the boy 
and quickly set him up again; by some simple remedy 
perhaps, some common-sense prescription, too simple to 
be catalogued officially. 

That night Mr. Saul sat long by the child’s side, 
remaining indeed, until the heavy eyes closed in a 
drugged slumber — it had come to that, for the boy 
constantly lay awake restless and excited, until a 
sedative was administered. Now, even after he slept, 
Robert Saul continued to sing, in his sweet rich tenor, 
the soft lullaby which Malcolm loved the best. At last, 
assured that the sleep was deep, though seemingly not 
as restful as it should have been, he stole from the room 
and crept his way downstairs, careful not to risk awak- 
ening the tired child. 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 269 


His dinner had been waiting and was spoilt. His 
nerves were overstrung, and he was irritated by the 
circumstance of the unappetising meal. This caused 
him to act stupidly, as an angry man sometimes does 
act, by going dinnerless. Hastily swallowing a glass 
of claret he left the dining-room and suddenly faced 
a woman standing in the hall. 

The woman approached him and spoke in hurried, 
nervous accents, requesting that she might see him 
alone. She wore a plain dark dress, and her colourless 
face and pale grey eyes seemed familiar to Robert Saul, 
though his tired brain could not recall the when, or 
the where, of their previous meeting. He entered his 
study mechanically and the woman followed him. 

The butler, concluding that she was a parishioner 
who had come upon business, closed the door after 
her, and Mr. Saul turned to find his visitor regarding 
him intently. 

“ I have hurried home from Cannes,” she said, “ for 
I heard a few days after I arrived there of your 
nephew’s illness. The news brought to my mind a 
little circumstance which I had quite forgotten : ” for 
a moment she hesitated and moved her shifty glance, 
then she continued rapidly. “ Your sister, Mrs. Stuart, 
made me witness this just before she died. I forgot 
it altogether until the other day.” 

Mr. Saul glanced at the woman swiftly when she 
spoke of his sister, and now he instantly recognised her 
as the nurse who had been hurriedly summoned from 
an adjacent nursing home, when Winnie had been taken 
ill. He had no idea what could be the contents of 
the envelope, which she was holding out to him, but he 
saw that it was carefully and fully addressed to him in 


270 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


Winnie’s handwriting. As he opened it, he was dis- 
tinctly conscious of a feeling of antipathy towards the 
woman who stood before him. He was certain that she 
had lied to him and that, for some purpose of her own, 
she had retained the letter for over a year. 

With a curious unwillingness he took the half-sheet 
of paper from its cover, slowly turning towards the 
light and feeling all the time consciously restive be- 
neath the woman’s veiled, but penetrating glance. 

The letter w T as very short, but it, like the address 
upon the envelope, was written by his sister’s hand. 
He seemed to read from the top to the bottom of the 
page in one single glance; indeed it almost seemed to 
him that the words leapt up to meet him. His face grew 
more stern, and the woman, her eyes still watchful 
beneath their half-closed lids, noted his mental dis- 
turbance, and she was pleased. 44 Good,” she thought, 
44 I did right to wait. Now he will pay me well ! ” 

Mr. Saul unlocked the rigid hand which he held be- 
hind his back and quietly opened the door. 

“ Thank you,” he said curtly. 44 Good-evening,” 

and he raised his hand towards the bell 

The woman’s face fell, but only for an instant, she 
had not played her trump card yet ; she had not wished 
to play it to-night, but 44 needs must,” she decided 
cynically, 44 when the devil drives.” Mr. Saul did not 
press the electric button over which his finger rested, 
for he safa that the woman had not stirred and that she 
had more to say. 44 Either,” she argued, 44 he intends 
to give the boy up — but that I do not believe — or he 
intends to burn that letter; I fancy that the latter is 
his game ! ” 

, 44 If you will shut the door,” — her voice now held 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 271 

a threatening note — “ I will tell you something further 
about this matter.” 

But she had made a false move, and she under- 
stood instantly that she had done so, for Mr. Saul’s 
eyes flashed angrily and he immediately rang the bell. 
As his man entered the room, he left it, saying quietly, 
“ Open the front door, Ford.” But he too had made 
a mistake, though he did not know it then; for the 
woman, who had so far been actuated merely by a love 
of gain, was now enraged at her summary dismissal 
in the presence of a servant. In a mind both mean and 
cruel, a sense of injury soon bred a vindictive thought 
which one day she would barb and point at the man’s 
heart. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


CONFUSION 


For they have sown the wind, and they shall reap 
the whirlwind. 


— Hosea. 


That night Robert Saul did not sleep at all. Instead, 
indulging the habit into which he had fallen since his 
sister’s death, he left his study at midnight and stole 
softly up to Malcolm’s room. The child slept, though 
he muttered as he dreamed, but his uncle could distin- 
guish nothing that he said. Once he thought he heard 
him call for his mother, and bending over the boy he 
kissed him many times, passionately, but very gently. 
Finally, he knelt beside the bed and prayed .that, if it 
was His will, God would remove this last most bitter 
cup from his lips. He knelt there, and most 
earnestly he prayed, but when he arose from his knees, 
he did so quite unrefreshed. As he turned to leave the 
room, Malcolm suddenly rose in his bed and beat the 
air with his thin white hands, crying out with a sud- 
den, startled scream. Robert gently lifted the boy to 
his breast and murmured endearing words over him, but 
the child struggled and still cried aloud. Taking him 
in both arms, Mr. Saul walked up and down the long 
bedroom, the room which had been Winnie’s and was 
now the child’s, because it caught the morning sun. 

278 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 273 


Soon Malcolm slept again, and Robert laid him in 
his bed, staying by his side, until he was sure that he 
was really resting quietly. Then he went downstairs 
and left the house upon one of the long midnight ram- 
bles in which he often sought to work off the unrest of 
the day. 

When he turned homeward, it was early morning, 
and he was mentally and physically very tired. His 
mind recurred constantly to the nurse’s visit, and he 
was pursued by an army of most subtle temptations. 
Should he burn the paper that the woman had given 
him, who would know? No one, except the woman 
who had brought it to him, and money would silence 
her ; besides, she could prove nothing! Was such a 
document legal? He doubted it; and here a way of 
escape seemed suddenly to open before him. He had 
only occasionally seen Winnie conscious after she had 
fallen at his feet that day, and he had watched in her 
sick room almost continuously until she died. This 
paper must certainly have been written while delirium 
held its sway. The doctors would support this view. 
But even as he argued thus, Robert Saul knew that 
this was the wide road that leads to destruction ; for 
in his heart, he believed that Winnie had been perfectly 
sane when she penned those few clear lines to him. Her 
letter was dated two days before her death, before the 
fever had overruled her mind. He knew that one honest 
course alone lay before him, but it was the road that 
certainly led at any rate to a temporary separation 
between himself and Malcolm, and he could not take it. 
He would not give up the child even for a time, least of 
all to those strangers whom he utterly distrusted. He 
himself was the boy’s natural guardian in sickness as 


274 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


in health and he would not relinquish that which he 
determinedly designated as his God-given trust. Win- 
nie must have been mad, or she would never have writ- 
ten that letter; it was preposterous to suppose that 
perfect strangers — for these “ Meades ” were nothing 
more — would care for her child, when ill, out of pure 
love! And Winnie, at the time she wrote that letter, 
was absolutely unable to make any provision for the 
boy. It was an irrational letter, Robert Saul declared, 
'showing a blind infatuation for a man and woman of 
whom she had known practically nothing. He himself 
knew enough of their principles — if such they could be 
called — to justify him in keeping his nephew out of 
their hands. He believed Christian Science to be the 
work of the devil — one of the most dangerous heresies 
indeed, that had ever enticed men and women away from 
the Catholic Church. For years Mr. Saul had fought 
vehemently and, for him, with wonderful patience 
against the ever-growing power of the nonconformist; 
and the bare possibility that his dearly-loved nephew, 
one of his own kith and kin and the being upon whom 
he now lavished all his love, might grow up a dissenter, 
was gall and wormwood to his orthodox mind. Should 
he hand the child over to these “ Meades,” even for a 
time, they would of course educate him in all the igno- 
rant superstition of their cult. As Robert Saul pic- 
tured the boy’s future, influenced by such tuition, his 
imagination painted a manhood utterly at variance with 
every firmly rooted prejudice, every hereditary dogma 
which ruled his own life. He believed absolutely that 
his nephew’s ultimate salvation depended upon his en- 
rolment among the members of the Church. He would 
prefer that Malcolm should be confirmed in that branch 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 275 

of the Catholic Church — the Church of England — to 
which he himself belonged, but should the boy, as he 
grew older, elect to become a member of the other 
branch — the Church of Rome — he should not oppose 
his choice. The slight differences which are to be found 
between the opinions of the Anglican Churchman of the 
present day and the declared adherent of the Church 
of Rome he regarded as unimportant. He had some- 
times taken Malcolm to a Roman Catholic Church when 
travelling abroad. The child had appeared to enjoy 
both early mass and evensong, more than he did any 
service in London. A career of honour and great use- 
fulness plainly lay before the boy. Splendidly en- 
dowed with brains, he only needed a wise guiding hand 
to direct his education in order that he might be fitted 
for almost any position. 

Thus weaving the webs of a fanciful future for 
Malcolm, Mr. Saul forgot, at times, the child’s pre- 
carious state of health, and he received, for the second 
time in a few hours, a severe shock when he returned 
from his long walk, for upon opening his door he 
saw Malcolm standing upon the stairs. The hall was 
only dimly lighted, but what little light there was fell 
full upon the small white figure, and Robert Saul was 
startled at the death-like pallor of the face. 

“ Malcolm ! ” he exclaimed, and hurried forward, but 
it was not until he reached the child’s side that he un- 
derstood what was happening. Then he was dismayed 
and, for the moment, helpless. The child was walking 
in his sleep. Robert Saul had never before watched a 
somnambulist, and he was horrified at the boy’s ap- 
pearance, for his face worked with the excitement which 
controlled him and which had evidently brought him 


276 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


from his bed. Now Malcolm began to talk, and his 
uncle heard every word that he said, for the boy enun- 
ciated each syllable with a curious distinctness. He 
was talking quite coherently about the last mathemati- 
cal problem which he had worked out a/ few days 
previously. He reached the bottom of the stairs, while 
Mr. Saul, fascinated into inaction, watched him as he 
pressed his finger upon the knob and turned the electric 
light full on. Opening the study door the child went 
straight to his own little writing able, and sat down 
in the revolving chair which his uncle had given him 
a few months previously. Robert Saul followed him, 
and, vaguely aware of a warning received sometime, 
somewhere, to the effect that a somnambulist must 
never be hastily awakened, he was careful to make no 
noise as he watched the boy, who now lifted a pen and 
dipped it in the ink. Doubtless the child intended to 
work out some problem which had evidently got upon 
his mind; but he always worked in pencil, and his 
uncle wondered why he now so carefully chose pen and 
notepaper. The next minute Robert Saul’s own face 
whitened and suddenly looked old. The light from the 
hall fell clear across the writing-table, and he easily 
deciphered each word as the boy wrote it. Malcolm 
was writing a letter to his dead mother! Worn out 
by the stress of the last few hours and tired by his long 
walk, Mr. Saul sank into a chair beside the child and 
covered his face with his hands. How long he re- 
mained there he did not know, but he was presently 
roused by a sudden complete silence which seemed to 
possess the room. He dropped his hands and rose in- 
voluntarily to his feet, in time to see Malcolm sitting 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 277 


with a troubled face before the letter, which he had 
placed in an envelope. The child still held the pen in 
his right hand, but now he held it perfectly still. “ The 
address,” he muttered, “ I forget the address.” Then 
the expression of his face changed, and Mr. Saul, terri- 
fied lest the boy should awaken to a sudden realisation 
of the truth, started forward to lead him back to bed. 
“ Mother,” the boy muttered, and put the letter in his 
uncle’s hand. 

Until that night Mr. Saul had never once heard 
Malcolm speak of his mother since her death, and it 
was a shock to the man who contemplated taking a 
course contrary to her wishes, to hear her child asking 
for her now. Very gently he lifted the boy in his arms 
— how light the burden was ! Though so small for his 
age, he weighed much too little, surely! Robert had 
carried the child about his bedroom only a few hours 
ago, but now his perception was doubtless intensified 
by anxiety. He spoke softly to the boy, and once more 
crooned the favourite lullaby, while Malcolm, still 
asleep, wound his arms about his uncle’s neck and nes- 
tled against him with a little sigh. 

Robert did not take the boy to his room, but laid 
him instead upon his own bed, and watched the rest of 
the night in a chair beside him. And as he watched he 
suffered, as only a proud and sensitive nature can suf- 
fer, under self-inflicted wrong. For his mind was quite 
made up. To-morrow, he would find that woman and 
pay her anything she asked, rather than part for a 
single day with Malcolm, who was all that he now had 
to love and who loved him as no one else ever had done. 
He felt again the touch of the boy’s thin arm around 


278 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


his neck and the pressure of the child’s head upon his 
breast, and he swore passionately that nothing should 
part them — neither life nor death. 

The morning’s post brought him that which pushed 
him one step further upon the wide road, one step 
lower in his own esteem. The woman wrote to him, 
enclosing her address and a promise to hand over to 
him the original of Mrs. Stuart’s letter (which original 
she now confessed that she had withheld) for one hun- 
dred pounds! 

Robert Saul almost laughed. The sum was too ab- 
surd, when compared with Malcolm’s love. 

That afternoon the woman called again. Mr. Saul 
awaited her in his study, and there received from her 
Winnie’s letter; but before locking it safely away in 
the old bureau in which he kept his most private cor- 
respondence, he compared it with the forged copy which 
she had left with him the day before, and he admitted 
to himself that the copy was indeed a cleverly executed 
duplicate. 

The woman greedily fingered the crisp bank notes 
which Mr. Saul now gave her, and as she left the house, 
she laughed. “ Poor fool ! to order me off yesterday 
like that, and in the presence of his servant, too ! Poor 
fool ! ” And she laughed again, for she was of the 
nature to bear a grudge until the measure was repaid, 
— “ full measure, pressed down, . . . and running 

over.” Her “ pound of flesh ” she must and would 
have. “ Poor fool ! he will regret his lordly airs one 
day! Does he think me no wiser than himself? ” 

Robert Saul sat long in his study that evening and 
thought upon the two letters which had so disturbed 
the current of his life during the last twenty-four 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 279 


hours — one from Winnie, and one to Winnie ! He had 
been startled when he saw Malcolm commence that letter 
to his dead mother, and so far he had not dared to read 
it. But now he drew it from his pocket and read it 
slowly through. As he did so, his strong right hand 
trembled, and his brow flushed. Was this thing true? 
Had he indeed failed in the one direction in which he 
most desired to succeed? It would seem so, for Mal- 
colm’s letter to his dead mother was just a simple child- 
like cry for happiness. Incoherent in parts, it yet 
maintained its purposeful wail throughout, and in it 
the child reiterated his desire to come to her, to stay 
beside her, above all, to be happy and well again ! 

Robert Saul groaned as he pressed his head back 
against the leather of his chair. So he had stained 
his hands for this ! The boy did not love him after 
all, but had merely acquired a habit of leaning upon 
him, as the weak will lean upon the strong. Pshaw! 
the boy had been asleep and knew nothing of what 
he wrote; overwrought, he had but obeyed the dic- 
tates of an excited brain. 

And so the unhappy man threw the ball to and fro 
and found but sorry comfort in the game. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


THE MAN-MADE HELL OF MAN 

Long is the way 
And hard, that out of hell leads up to light. 

— Milton. 

Mr. Saul and his little ward were now upon the banks 
of the Dart. Both were happier than they had been 
for a long time. The village doctor or the pure sweet 
air, or both perhaps, had seemed to do wonders for 
Malcolm. Their departure from London had been de- 
layed a little, for at last Robert Saul was a bishop, 
the youngest bishop yet created. 

True, he knew, what only a few others would ever 
know, that he had been obliged to descend in his own 
estimation before this promotion had been offered to 
him, though for a long time he had steadily refused to 
work the matter by interest. He would, he had de- 
clared, stand upon his own merits alone and not seek 
aid from the good will of any private friend. But 
in the end he had written to a 46 useful man,” and now 
the appointment was a fait accompli. 

He had since been revelling in a quiet week with 
only Malcolm for his companion. To-day, however, 
he must leave the child with the cheerful, clever nurse 
who had accompanied them to Devonshire, and Malcolm 
was actually content that his uncle should go from 
280 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 281 

him, the purpose being to inspect more minutely their 
new home. 

As he travelled through the beautiful English coun- 
try, Robert Saul felt almost glad again. Malcolm had 
kissed him lovingly good-bye, and gripped his hand so 
hard, that he had been forced gently to open the little 
fingers before they would release him. It was only 
now that he was de facto a bishop, that he realised how 
much he had desired this place and power. To rule 
was natural and sweet to him, and now his kingdom 
would be large. He was charmed with all he saw at 
Exminster, and wrote that night to his lawyers in- 
structing them to dispose of his London house. 

The climate at Exminster, being the driest and sun- 
niest in England, was the very thing for Malcolm, and 
the Palace was delightfully situated upon a hill. Robert 
Saul quickly selected a beautiful bedroom for the boy — 
a bright room looking out upon a sweet old-world 
garden, full of half-forgotten flowers. 

Then he hurried back to Devonshire, eager to pour 
into Malcolm’s ears an account of their new home. In 
the train he read some of the many kind and eulogistic 
things which appeared at that time in the daily papers 
about the new Bishop of Exminster, and a not un- 
natural pride flushed his brow, for he knew that the 
praise was deserved and had been earned by strenu- 
ous toil. 

A rather tedious wait at a junction was followed by 
a short, though tiresome, journey upon a branch line. 
Then came a five-mile walk, for apparently his wire, 
ordering the dogcart, had not reached in time ; at any 
rate the cart was not there. 

It only mattered in so far as it delayed his return to 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


282 

Malcolm, but after all he would soon be with the child ; 
and as Robert Saul strode across the moors, he joy- 
ously pictured the boy’s delight when he should hear 
all that he had to tell him. The day was lovely, and 
he was a little disappointed at not seeing Malcolm sit- 
ting in his low chair by the river waiting for him. 
It was after tea time, but he would be sure to have 
delayed the meal until his uncle’s return, so that they 
might sit down together; he would find him at the 
cottage door. 

At the garden gate the nurse met him; her usually 
bright face was grave, and dark rings about her eyes 
bespoke recent tears. 

“ I could not send the cart for you,” she said, “ I 
had to send it for the doctor: he is with Malcolm now.” 

Mr. Saul did not ask a single question. He was 
too shocked to think connectedly. Almost in a stride 
he reached Malcolm’s room and stood dejectedly be- 
side the bed. 

The doctor held up a warning hand. 66 1 have just 
got him to sleep,” he whispered, “ the pain has been 
awful.” 

The doctor explained that the spasms of pain had 
lasted longer than usual, and that this was dangerous 
in Malcolm’s weak state. “ I was afraid of this,” he 
added, “ the heart — — ” 

“ Oh, stop,” Mr. Saul exclaimed, “ and tell me the 
truth at once, will he live? ” 

“ Yes,” was the slow answer, “ if we can keep his 
strength up. Keep him in the open air, and don’t let 
him get excited. I would not cross his will at all, 
better spoil him a little rather than have any excite- 
ment.” 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


And thus the kindly old man took his leave, but as 
he turned the corner and left the cottage out of sight, 
he shook his head gravely and sighed a little, for he 
knew that the child was passing beyond all human 
aid. 

Now a time of test and trial such as he had never 
yet known, set in for Robert Saul: Malcolm grew 
weaker every day, refusing to rest except in his uncle’s 
arms. He had taken on a sick child’s whim and would 
never remain for a moment in the house. Wonderful 
weather made it possible for him to be out all day long 
and, when the sun went down and the evening breeze 
blew chill, his uncle would wrap the boy in a shawl and 
tramp the moors for miles with him in his arms, carry- 
ing his light burden tenderly, as a woman carries that 
which she loves and fears to lose. 

Often the man himself was very weary, for his 
strength seemed now to be far less than heretofore, 
but Malcolm, self-engrossed, never noticed this, and 
was often impatient if “ Uncle Robert ” rested too 
long upon the rough stone walls or kindly hillocks 
which dotted the moors. 

And yet in his somewhat selfish way he loved the 
deeply loving man who tended him day and night. 
Indeed, a world with no “ Uncle Robert ” in it would 
have seemed impossible to Malcolm at this period of 
his life. He never troubled, however, to contemplate 
anything beyond his near vision, for he was very tired 
always and wanted only to sleep day and night. But 
even when he slept, he seemed to know if Robert left 
him for a time, and would instantly grow restless, some- 
times crying out as though afraid. When awake he 
clung to his uncle with a pathos resulting partly from 


284 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


his helpless state, partly from his lonely little life, and 
under all there lay a deep conviction that in all the 
world there was no one else so clever or so strong as 
“ Uncle Robert.” 

So it came about that Bishop Saul, who could no 
longer be absent from his new diocese, planned to 
take Malcolm home to Exminster; but every day the 
doctor pleaded for delay in order that the child might 
first gain strength for the journey; and Malcolm him- 
self seemed to cling to the murmuring river, and the 
wide beauty of the moor, and begged continually for 
“ just another day.” At last the time came when 
Robert’s poor blind eyes were opened and he read 
aright the doctor’s meaning glance. He himself had 
not slept properly for months and was physically quite 
unfit to bear the continuous strain of his little nephew’s 
illness. For days and nights, indeed, he had not gone 
to bed at all, and now it began to tell, even upon his 
splendid constitution. 

Desperately he had fought for this loved life; des- 
perately he had prayed that this one little heart might 
be left to love him, and now — the doctor would not let 
him even hope! 

That evening Bishop Saul walked further than usual 
with the child and returned to find the nurse, whose 
kind heart was growing anxious, watching at the gate. 
She lifted her arms to take the boy, but Robert Saul 
motioned her peremptorily aside, and strode into the 
cottage with his burden. She noticed that he stag- 
gered as he walked, and that night she told the doctor 
of strange, incoherent mutterings which, grumbling 
through the thin cottage walls, reached her from the 
Bishop’s room. 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


285 


“ Can’t you give him something to quiet his nerves ? ” 
she asked. “ He is worn out with the mental strain, 
and he tries his physical strength too far in taking 
these unheard of walks.” 

“ Medicine will not help him,” the old doctor an- 
swered ; “ but — it will soon be over now, and then his 
new work will engross him. I know the Bishop well, 
he must live hard ; it is the nature of some men.” 

That night Robert Saul, contrary to his custom, left 
Malcolm’s side directly the child slept. He could not, 
he would not , stay and see him die. He called the 
nurse and waited until he was sure that she had, close 
to hand, all that she needed for the child’s comfort, 
and then he immediately left the house. 

The night was perfectly still and nearly dark, but 
Bishop Saul knew almost every foot of the rough roads 
that intersected the moors in every direction. He 
walked mile after mile, never pausing until he reached 
the valley to which he had carried Malcolm that day. 
There he rested, but not for long; his misery moved 
him to restless action. 

Hurrying through bracken and wild wortleberries, 
his foot was suddenly arrested, so that he almost fell. 
Through the semi-darkness he discerned a huge mono- 
lith not two paces from him. Now the mystery of the 
moor possessed Robert Saul, and for a moment with- 
drew his thought from the present, flinging it back 
upon the shrouded past. How, he asked himself, had 
prehistoric man moved the roughly hewn stone of vast 
girth upon which he now stood? — primitive man, with- 
out mechanical aid? Had not each rocky slab a story 
to tell of patience and strength unequalled by the men 
of his own day, whose hurried lives left no opportunity 


286 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

for the full development of that calm and quiet domin- 
ion over self and circumstance, with which man must 
be endowed, if he would do enduring good and add a 
golden page to the history of the world? 

Once more he walked for hours, and when again he 
stopped he found that his unconscious thought had 
directed his steps back to the head of the vale. It 
looked gloomy in the light of the pale new moon which 
was about to set and which was so beclouded that no 
detail of the landscape was discernible. Yes, just one 
thing the Bishop could see distinctly, but perhaps that 
was because he had so often remarked it before. There 
upon the hillside, near the bottom of the valley, was 
a single tree; motionless it stood in the airless summer 
night, dark and lonely always in its perfect isolation — 
a thing apart, a looker-on at the friendly life of the 
valley. Pairing birds flew over its head in springtime, 
not pausing to rest upon its branches, not caring to 
carol from its top. All summer busy-winged insects 
buzzed merrily among the heather near its base, eat- 
ing of the flowers’ sweetness, but the tree had seemingly 
no part in life, and stood there dreary and alone, al- 
ways alone, as he would be upon the morrow ! 

Robert Saul thought that the tree was like himself, 
a thing to be pitied, yet quite beyond the help of man. 
But nothing really held place in his mind that night, 
except the gnawing pain at his heart. All day long he 
had been fiercely rebellious; he had fought this fight 
for Malcolm so hard, and for so long, and yet he had 
lost. Now, hour after hour, he sought to resign his 
will to that of the Deity whom he worshipped and who, 
he was accustomed to declare, could order nothing 
wrongly. But he completely failed. He could not, 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE £87 


resign himself ; he could not meekly contemplate the 
blank which Malcolm’s death would make in his life. 
He was ashamed that it was so, for often he had 
preached the gospel of resignation, and always he had 
supposed that he himself would, if called upon to do 
so, be able to practise that which he so perpetually 
preached. But the hour was upon him and it found 
him breaking his heart over the anticipated death of a 
little child. 

Utterly exhausted, he at last threw himself full 
length upon the heather and pillowed his head upon 
his folded arms. Now he saw, or thought he saw, in the 
darkness of the valley below, Malcolm’s face, and he 
seemed to hear, in the silence of the night about him, 
Malcolm’s voice ; almost he felt the touch of Malcolm’s 
arms around his neck. . . . Now it was Winnie’s 

face that he saw and Winnie’s voice that he heard. 
And was not that Winnie’s form that floated across 
the valley and was lost when it reached the lonely 
tree? . . . He buried his face in his hands and 

longed for the relief of a woman’s tears. But no com- 
fort came; instead, a weary question beat within his 
brain ; “ Is there no help, is there nothing that can 
be done? ” Presently the hopeless question left his 
tired brain, and from his heart a silent cry arose. 

“ My God ! my God ! tell me what to do, and I will 
do it. 6 Speak, Lord ; for thy servant heareth ’ ! ” 

At last he arose and seated himself upon a fallen 
tree, and presently he slept — slept just as he sat, with 
his face held within his hands ; his elbows upon his 
knees ; his great figure heaped together. 

But before he slept, he, overwrought, asked again 
and again another question. “ Death ! and what be- 


288 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


yond? ” How the thought of Winnie haunted him — ■ 
Winnie, white and still, standing with her arms out- 
stretched across the dark oak of the door; thus form- 
ing a human cross ; then Winnie, fallen at his feet, 
moaning in her speechless pain. 

Dully, stupidly his dazed thought sought an an- 
swer to his question, but nothing definite could formu- 
late in a mind darkened with the fear of death. His 
last conscious thought, however, was an unconscious 
prayer for light, and before he slept his heart over- 
flowed with a silent longing which became the prayer 
of true desire. 

Very early that morning Doctor Reynolds drove 
across the moor. He, too, had spent the night in 
fighting death; and he had lost the battle. It was 
scarcely an hour ago that he had gently laid a tiny 
lifeless form upon a pillow, and left it there amid the 
billowy mass of lace and cambric which almost hid 
the new-born babe whose life had seemed to last for 
just one hour. 

The doctor had hastened away from the house of 
mourning. Of what use to stay? He could do noth- 
ing to heal the broken heart which now beat over- 
quickly with longing for its dead; nothing to chase 
the unshed tears away from eyes too proud to manifest 
a woman’s weakness, even while the mind knew all of 
a woman’s pain. All that man might do for man, 
he did. One strong, silent hand-clasp, acknowledged 
by a single word of gratitude in a voice made stern by 
suffering, was all that had passed before he left the 
house. Now, as he drove across the wide moor in the 
early dawn, he thought of the lonely man whom he had 
just left, — wifeless husband, childless father — for both 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 289 


mother and child were dead ! Bride and babe lay side 
by side. He had tried, with all the art of which he 
was the master, to save them — and had failed. It had 
happened so before and, he reflected, it would happen 
so again in spite of four thousand years of science. 
Death, he thought, is cruel. This young wife, wedded 
but a year ago! Could not death have passed her 
by for a little while at least? Ah, well! — and the 
doctor sighed, — no doubt she understands by now; no 
doubt by now, she has solved the problem of her being ! 

Nay! not yet does she know, even as she is known. 
How should she learn the law of Life from the ac- 
cursed mouth of death — death, which knows not Life, 
nor ever can. Nay, she does not know as yet. How 
should she? Did she not die believing in a power apart 
from God? Search, my brother, search the deep things 
of Good. Listen to the words of him called “ Wonder- 
ful,” for they are light and they are life, holding within 
their sacred depth no hint nor taste of foul corrup- 
tion’s breath. Hast thou not heard, my brother man, 
that “ Jesus Christ hath abolished death and hath 
brought life and immortality to light through the gos- 
pel,” thereby revealing Man, reconciled to God — Man 
forever glorious in the deathless reality of his true 
being ? 

Awake! Awake, thou sleeping world! Too long 
hast thou lain quiescent, fast-locked within the arms 
of mental lethargy. Too long hast thou dreamed the 
years away. Turn thee! Rouse thee! Open thy fast- 
closed eyes! For behold the day is at hand! 

Get thee hence, thou deep oblivion ! Thou phantom 
Death, thou dark Deception, get thee hence! Back! 
Back to thy native nothingness thou must return. For 


290 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


see! What says the prophet of the Lord? “ Unto you 
that fear my name shall the sun of righteousness arise 
with healing in his wings ; ” thus, for “ them that be- 
lieve ” the world is flooded with his light, flooded with 
the light of Life eternal and Love divine : for God is 
Life, and “ God is Love ” and God is “ All-in- All.” 
What then is death? — and where? 


Part V 

WHITE WARP AND WOOF IN THE LOOM OF 
MIND 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


LOOKING TOWARDS THE LIGHT 
And a little child shall lead them. 

— Isaiah. 


Dr. Reynolds, tired out with his anxious and sleepless 
night, now gave the reins to the young lad who sat 
beside him. Glancing idly round the moor, he was 
startled to see a dark figure, sharply defined against 
the sky-line; it was that of a man seated in an atti- 
tude of deep dejection and apparently quite still. 

46 Drive on and draw up round there,” he said to his 
youthful groom, pointing to a sharp bend in the road. 

The boy obeyed, and Dr. Reynolds climbed down 
a little stiffly from his seat, for he was not so active 
as he had been before that sharp attack of gout a year 
ago. 

44 Wait here for me,” he ordered, and turning, he 
retraced his way on foot along the road, until that still 
figure came again into view. Apparently the man 
had not stirred a hair’s breadth; and now, though yet 
a long way off, the doctor recognised the Bishop of 
Exminster by his dress, and a sudden fear shot through 
his mind. There was something unnatural in the rigid 
quiet of the man’s great form. But as he approached 
him, his anxiety was suddenly relieved, for Bishop Saul 
raised his head and spoke. 

293 


294 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


“Have you come for me, Reynolds? Is is over?” 

“ No, man, no.” 

The doctor spoke roughly, as a man will sometimes 
when in pain, and the old doctor was both pained and 
shocked at the stricken look upon the face before him, 
for he read more than grief in Robert Saul’s wild eyes 
as they questioned him. 

“ Here, man ! ” he said peremptorily, “ swallow two 
of these, and then drive home with me.” 

The Bishop took the tiny pellets, and laughed gently, 
and for a long time. 

“The same that Malcolm takes?” he said; “no, 
thank you, Reynolds, my heart is right enough ! ” and 
he laughed again in a quiet unmirthful way which made 
Doctor Reynolds uneasy. 

He did not, however, press the point, but instead 
he sat down beside his friend and mused for some 
minutes in silence. Twice he almost spoke, but twice 
he closed his lips upon the words. 

“ I have thought of something,” he said at last, 
“ that you might try for Malcolm. I do not under- 
stand much about it — it is mental suggestion of a 
sort, I suppose — but I cannot disbelieve in its curative 
power; the time has passed for that . Have you ever 
heard of Christian Science? ” 

Now the Bishop’s laugh rang out so loud and harsh 
across the moor that it reached the waiting groom, 
startling him into a lazy wonder whence it came. 

“ Yes,” the Bishop answered, “ Yes ! Yes ! ” 

Bishop Saul looked at his friend and laughed again. 
Had he ever heard of Christian Science? Why, had 
not Winnie sat beside him the long night through, as, 
indeed, she had sat many times of late, usually upon 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 295 


the arm of his chair as she had done that night not 
long before she died, and had she not asked again 
the self-same question which she had asked him then? 
Had not the darkness down there in the valley shrieked 
with Winnie’s question? Had not Winnie’s form 
floated round his feet in the early dawn ! Remember- 
ing, Robert Saul laughed again and again, but very 
quietly now. Then, he became suddenly silent, and 
after awhile he answered, as he had answered Winnie 
that night in London. 

44 I know all about Christian Science.” And as he 
pressed his hands upon his burning eyes, he said once 
more. 44 Yes — yes — I know all about Christian 
Science.” 

44 Then you know that it heals the sick ? ” the doctor 
spoke emphatically, wishful to steady the Bishop’s 
wandering thought: but he was frightened at the un- 
expected result of his words, for the man beside him 
rose upon the instant to his feet repeating, over and 
over again with a new excitement in his tone ; 44 It 
heals the sick ! ” The next moment he was out of 
sight. Round the bend of the road Robert Saul came 
upon the doctor’s waiting cart. 44 Ah ! ” he muttered 
softly, and leapt upon the step. And now the aston- 
ished groom held on as best he might, looking backward 
and wondering where his master was, for Bishop Saul 
was whipping the horse savagely, and the animal, used 
only to a placid hand, reared upon the road. 

44 Horse fresh? ” The Bishop’s tone was curt. 

44 Yes, sir, just out,” and the boy stole an uneasy 
glance at his strange companion. 

For now they raced along the road until they 
reached a spot from which a footpath branched across 


296 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


the moor. The stern driver bent his hand, and turned 
the horse’s head; and now they rocked from side to 
side as, in perilous haste, he drove the cart along a 
path made only by the foot of man. But it saved two 
miles or more, and Malcolm lay at the other end, so 
what mattered if they pitched and staggered like a 
ship upon a roughened sea? Now the cottage was 
in sight, and the Bishop drew the horse up on his 
haunches and left the trap, even while it tilted with 
the sudden halt; another moment, and he stood by 
Malcolm’s bed; then, as he looked upon the child, 
his wild excitement fell into a short calm. 

Quietly leaving the boy’s room he entered his own 
and unlocked a drawer. Selecting a bundle of papers, 
he withdrew from among them an old postcard. Care- 
fully scanning the few lines which were written upon 
it, he replaced it, but not until he had noted in his 
pocket-book a certain address — the address which had 
been sent to his sister, Winnie, not long before she 
died. He now returned to Malcolm’s room and deftly, 
though with a trembling hand, he wound a blanket 
round the boy and then gently lifted him upon his 
breast. If he heard the nurse’s frightened protest, he 
did not heed it, further than to whisper sternly, 
“ Hush ! do not wake the child ! ” 

Now he sat in the cart again and Malcolm lay sleep- 
ing in his strong embrace, while he roughly bade the 
youth drive to Saignton Station. Five miles before 
them still ! five long miles of rough moorland road ! 

“ Drive faster,” the Bishop said, and leant across 
and reached the whip. 

Swift rush! wild gallop! and the good horse flung 
the soft earth back upon his track, as he answered to 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 297 

the stem voice which urged him on. The terrified 
groom supposed that he drove a madman to the train, 
and cared not how soon he reached the safe company 
of his fellow men. 

“Faster, man!” the Bishop hissed between set lips, 
whitened by the stressful thought that ruled his mind. 
One minute more and they would be there! When 
hark ! a whistle sounds ! a shriek rises shrilly through 
the air, and white smoke greets them as they reach 
the station yard. 

The groom, speechless with dismay, stole a look at 
the man beside him. The Bishop’s head was bent upon 
the sleeping child, but quite suddenly he raised it. 

“ Quick,” he said, “ drive through the Park, by 
the south gate — we may catch it yet at Trentwood. 
There is no other train to-day.” 

The boy hesitated. “ The public is no’ let in till 
ten,” he said, “ I dursn’t do it.” 

“ Then lighten the trap, you fool,” and the now 
desperate man rose to his feet and lifting the lad threw 
him upon the road. 

Then cradling his living burden once more upon 
his breast, he closed his right hand upon the reins. 
At the same moment, embracing the child in his strong 
left arm, he turned the cart about and headed for the 
south gates of Trentwood Park. 

“ Ho, Death ! ” he cried. “ I will race with thee, 
and Malcolm, little Malcolm, shall be the prize ! O 
grave ! ” he whispered, “ where is thy sting and where 
thy victory ? ” 

The Park gates were but half open, and as the horse 
dashed through them, the cart left its mark upon the 
post. A sleepy keeper turned and shouted his startled 


298 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

protest to ears fast closed to outward sound, because 
attentive only to the inward thought. The garden 
gates stood open! Good! he would turn in there, for 
thus they could save a good half-mile. The Bishop 
drew so sharply upon the near rein that, for one breath 
of time, the trap stood at a perilous angle, and the man 
held the child closer with a sudden fear, lifting him 
high upon his breast. And now! — a rush along the 
smooth white drive between the blood-red rhododen- 
drons ! a flash past my lord’s open window, and the way 
will lie downhill. Soon they will be at Trentwood 
Station, while the train must wend its slow and circuit- 
ous way around the outskirts of his lordship’s land and 
up a long and steep incline before it can be there. 

“ Aha ! ” and the Bishop shivers as a sudden thought 
leaps within his brain. “ The lower gate ! what if 
that should be locked?” 

But Robert Saul, mad or sane, was not a man to 
succumb to any adverse circumstance without a goodly 
fight. So he set his strong white teeth and stung the 
good horse into a larger stride. As he did so a dark 
shadow seemed to fall across his eyes and he swung 
a little in his seat, but almost instantly it was gone, 
and he sat upright again, and now, he faced the gate, 
and saw that it was shut ! But not locked, perhaps ! 
Shortening the reins, he leapt from the cart, and the 
weary horse, though bravely answering to the man’s 
great need, was yet glad to rest, if only while the gate 
should swing upon its hinges. His sides rose and 
fell with distressful effort, as the sweat ran out from 
every pore, while he quivered in each limb. 

The Bishop, careful even in his desperate haste to 
note that Malcolm no longer slept but moaned in half- 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 299 


unconscious pain, gently rested the child across the 
bottom of the cart. The gate was locked, but Robert 
Saul was not beaten yet — he would fight this battle 
to the end. For one helpless second only he glanced 
around ; the next, he stooped swiftly and wound his 
great arms about a baby sapling which grew beside 
the fence. Now tree and man swayed as one; then 
the man hurled his concentrated weight upon the sap- 
ling’s bending form till it slowly yielded its bleeding 
roots into the hand that tore them from their home. 

Robert Saul, possessed — as sometimes is the case 
with those whom men call mad — with a strength be- 
yond his own, lifted the tree, and swung it at the fence, 
and soon the way was open where the broken timber 
lay, for it proved to be less strong than new paint 
made it appear, and man and cart stood together upon 
the further side. 

Now he drove upon the country road again. A 
short mile of ruts and hardened mud, six hundred 
yards of narrow lane, and Trent wood Station would 
be in sight ! Bishop Saul knew every inch of the high 
banks which he now found upon either side of him, 
for he had left the moor beyond the southern gate 
and was nearing his boyhood’s home; just here the 
lane narrowed abruptly and the drive was nearly over, 
when the turn of a sharp corner brought to view a 
farm cart making slow way towards them. 

46 Into the hedge,” the Bishop shouted. “ Quick ! for 
I must catch the train ! ” 

The rustic driver, sympathetic, but unused to hurry, 
jerked his horse’s mouth and with slow persuasion 
brought his cart to a tedious halt. It scarce yielded 
half the road, its great wheel crushing the white and 


300 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


purple periwinkle which formed a bright mosaic upon 
either side of the grassy lane. He doubted, however, 
that the light vehicle could find room to pass him, for 
the road here was none too wide for one! 

By a mighty effort of self-control, Bishop Saul 
curbed his action to a quiet guiding of his horse, for 
he believed that there was just room for them to pass, 
but to work out such a problem correctly with a life 
at stake, needed a calm which strained his nerves al- 
most, it seemed, to snapping point. 

44 You’ll no’ catch the train I’m thinking.” 

The rustic’s placid interest was more than a desper- 
ate man could bear, and Robert Saul rose up to his 
full height and leapt upon the road with Malcolm in 
his arms ! Ah ! the wildness of that wild race, and the 
thunderous beating of his heart! 

44 Your ticket, sir?” 

The Bishop paused long enough to stand quite still, 
while he laughed quietly in the man’s face; then, even 
as the guard shouted, 44 Keep back,” he wrenched the 
man’s hand from the van door and, holding one arm 
strongly about the child, stood within the train. 

He sat through the long journey as they crept upon 
their way, like a dreamer half awake. That mad wild 
drive was ever with him! Mad, in the manner of its 
doing, as is the action sped onward by the mind dis- 
eased, but sane in its underlying purpose; as is the 
impelling motive that stirs to freedom the prisoned 
creature bent upon escape. 

The service was well begun. It was the interval of 
silent prayer, and 44 man,” shutting the door upon 
materiality, sought audience with the divine Principle 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


301 


of all being, God. A wonderful calm holds dominion 
over the heart which acknowledges only the power of 
Mind and refuses to bow before a lesser king; thus 
great peace prevailed among that quiet congregation. 
Some measure of that peace indeed, which passeth 
understanding but which comes with understanding , 
and which heralds its glorious appearing by working 
the works of God. 

Suddenly, though upon the surface only of that deep 
harmony, there appeared a wave of discord. A 
stranger stood at the door — a 44 wayfaring man,” 
battle-stained and travel-worn. He sought sanctuary 
in their midst and healing for his wounds. In tones 
rendered harsh by the pain that moved his utterance, 
he voiced his cry for help. 

44 Lady Cecil Gwynne ! ” 

Cecil Gwynne rose quietly and left her seat, as Rob- 
ert Saul strode through the silent throng and placed 
the child he carried in her arms. 

44 Malcolm,” he said ; 44 Malcolm . . . dying ! ” 

And his tired eyes sought hers and asked the question 
that his quivering lips refused to frame. 

44 It is the ever-present healing Christ,” she answered 
softly, 44 who said, 4 1 am the resurrection, and the 
life; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, 
yet shall he live.’” 


CHAPTER XXXV 


THE QUESTION 
What is truth? 

— Pilate . 

“ I have come, Cecil,” Bishop Saul spoke gravely 
and with evident effort, “ to thank you. Malcolm’s 
health appears to be perfectly restored.” 

“ He will grow even stronger every day,” Lady 
Cecil Gwynne replied ; “ the child has gained a won- 
derful understanding of the Truth in a short time.” 

Bishop Saul rose from his chair and walked uneasily 
about the room. It was long since he and Cecil 
Gwynne had talked alone together in this room, and 
his thoughts were in a turmoil. 

“ I met an old College friend the day I took Mal- 
colm to school,” he said; “James Campbell was at 
New College with me, and it turns out that you know 
both him and his young brother Robby, of whom you 
must have often heard Malcolm speak, for, when he 
came home from India, it was Robby Campbell whom 
I asked to shepherd him during his first term.” 

The Bishop paused, and Cecil Gwynne wondered 
a little what bearing this apparently irrelevant infor- 
mation could have upon the subject of their discussion, 
when he continued, “ I was surprised to find that James 
Campbell has become a Christian Scientist; indeed it 
appears that he and Robby were deeply interested in 
it before the two little boys first met»” 

302 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 303 

“Why surprised?” Cecil asked gently. 

Bishop Saul laughed a little awkwardly and spoke 
with some hesitation. “ Well, the fact is, Campbell 
is a clever fellow and a long-headed, cautious Scotch- 
man to boot, -” 

“ Therefore unlikely to be led away by foolish fancies 
you would say,” and Cecil smiled. 

“No, I cannot any longer regard Christian Science 
as a fad,” the Bishop replied gravely ; “ I am too grate- 
ful for what it has given me not to make a just acknowl- 
edgment of the benefits received from it, but I am still 
full of doubt. To tell the truth, I am even more im- 
pressed by the change in Malcolm’s disposition than by 
his wonderful restoration to health. I always loved 
the boy, but he was full of faults. He is far from per- 
fect yet,” and Robert Saul smiled as he remembered 
a certain boyish escapade of recent date which might 
have led to serious consequences, had not Malcolm owned 
up and faced the fire like a man : “ but he is much less 
egotistical and more loving than he used to be.” He 
paused ; then added abruptly, “ I do not understand 
how the healing is done; I do not, I repeat,” and his 
face softened as he spoke, “ attempt to deny that it is 
done. Malcolm is a new creature, body and mind.” 

Cecil Gwynne opened a little book which lay close 
at hand and slowly turned the leaves until she found 
the page she sought. “ This book teaches how the 
healing is done,” she answered. “ ‘ Science and Health 
with Key to the Scriptures ’ * is our text book, and we 
study it daily ; indeed it is not possible to really under- 
stand Christian Science without doing so.” She closed 
the book and added ; “ The sick are healed in Christian 
* By Mary Baker G. Eddy. 


304 * 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


Science by the application of the law of Spirit; we 
regard God as the perfect Creator , Organiser and 
Governor of man and the universe. As surely as the 
patient comes into conscious sympathy with the law 
of Spirit — Life, Love and Truth — and remains sym- 
pathetically under its protection, so surely is he healed 
of his sickness.” 

Bishop Saul did not immediately reply, and when 
he did he spoke more quietly than before ; 44 1 myself,” 
he said, 44 have been more aware of a wonderful calm 
which seemed to rule my mind of late than of the 
physical healing, but I too am perfectly well now. 
Still there is much that I cannot accept, much that 
antagonises me, in Christian Science; and I hate your 
text book,” he spoke less quietly now, 44 I cannot read 
it, I wish that it had been written by a man.” 

Lady Cecil smiled. 44 I have met others,” she said, 
44 who felt the same at first, having entirely overlooked 
the fact, which is so clearly brought out in the Bibile, 
that God has constantly chosen women to deliver his 
message. Have you ever observed amongst others this 
prophecy,” and Cecil opened a Bible and read aloud 
from the Revised Version, 44 4 The Lord giveth the 
word ; The women that publish the tidings are a great 
host’? Wycliffe, you remember, was so hated in his 
time that his very bones were unearthed and burnt, 
and the ashes thrown upon a stream, in order that 
they might be carried off and for ever lost in the sea. 
But now millions bless his memory. Luther, too! In- 
deed all reformers, who stir up the sleeping thought, 
are hated by the majority of their contemporaries. 
If the author of 4 Science and Health ’ had lived two 
hundred, or even a hundred years ago, she would be 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


305 


viewed by the twentieth century with calmer eyes, and 
sensitive human nature would no longer take offence, 
where only love is meted out.” 

Bishop Saul made no direct answer but took from 
his pocket a newspaper cutting which he had neatly 
removed with a pair of scissors from the columns of 
a 44 London daily.” 

44 According to some,” he remarked, as he handed 
the cutting to his companion, “ Mrs. Eddy did not 
write 4 Science and Health.’ In fact your brother tells 
me that she claims as her own the work of a man who, 
being dead, naturally cannot protest.” 

44 Upon the other hand the dead man cannot inform 
the world that he did not write the book,” Lady Cecil 
replied quietly, 44 whereas Mrs. Eddy has, long ago, 
unquestionably vindicated her copyright in a court of 
law and thus legally established her position as the sole 
author of 4 Science and Health.’ But no Christian 
Scientist needs any such proof of the authenticity of 
her authorship, because they understand and prove 
daily that out of evil good cannot come. This false 
accusation against Mrs. Eddy is no new thing, but 
merely an old story raked up from time to time by 
those who, in many cases, thus do themselves less than 
justice; and it saddens one to see men and women, 
whom one knows to be capable of much good, carried 
away by an unreasoning and therefore unreasonable 
emotion born of the heated brain and material senses. 
My brother’s views upon this matter,” she added, 44 are 
now curiously mixed. He does not attempt to deny 
that Christian Science heals; also he admires the gen- 
eral character and citizenship of the Christian Scientist. 
He necessarily meets a certain number, now that this 


306 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


philosophy is penetrating all professions and classes; 
indeed, he tells me that he enjoys discussing matters 
of general importance with them, because he finds that 
their mental attitude is usually large-minded, calm 
and thoughtful, and he observes that they are excep- 
tionally alert and active. His objection to Christian 
Science from a religious point of view is, as you know, 
extreme; yet he does not, like you, despise the text 
book. On the contrary I have heard him speak to 
others in terms of admiration of its diction, though 
entirely disagreeing with the ethics therein set forth.” 

44 He cannot tolerate Mrs. Eddy.” Robert Saul 
spoke almost passionately; this matter always stirred 
him in an unaccountable manner. 

Lady Cecil looked grave as she replied : 44 And yet 
he knows really nothing about her.” 

44 He believes that she did not write the book which 
she poses as having written, and that is quite enough 
to make an honourable man very angry,” Bishop Saul 
answered quickly. 

44 But he has no proof to offer in support of 
his conviction,” Cecil Gwynne replied gently, 44 where- 
as ” 

44 I don’t know that it matters much to me, whether 
she did or did not write your text book,” her com- 
panion interrupted ; 44 it has an enormous circulation 
and she undoubtedly makes a fortune from the sale.” 

44 The book inevitably circulates rapidly ; it is im- 
pregnated with life,” Lady Cecil replied. 44 A friend 
of mine wrote,” she said, 44 a book on ancient history, 
which he sells at two guineas, and you pay sometimes 
thirty shillings for the biography of a public man, 
or for a work on medical science, but I have yet to learn 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 307 

that the sick have been healed of hopeless disease by 
the perusal of any such book. If there lives an author 
who does not secure all the profit he can from the sale 
of his books, I am not acquainted with him, and cer- 
tainly the labourer has every right to reap the harvest, 
which his or her individual hand has sown. Does 
not the Bible teach,” she continued, “ that 6 thou shalt 
not muzzle the mouth of the ox that treadeth out the 
corn ’? Does not Paul say, 6 if we have sown unto you 
spiritual things, is it a great thing if we shall reap 
your carnal things ’? Moreover did not God give Solo- 
mon riches and honour above all the kings which had 
been before him, because he asked of Him wisdom and 
knowledge ? Does not the Master promise that he who 
seeks first 6 the kingdom ’ shall be provided with all 
that he needs? God’s law is one of abundant good: 
He knows nothing of human limitations nor of poverty, 
both of which are surely most ungodlike conditions. 
Why does a critical world quarrel with a woman, whose 
life’s work has, by the grace of God, resulted in the 
salvation of men and women and little children from 
hopeless misery, while it fawns upon the multi-million- 
aire, nor pauses to ask whence come the dollars that 
build up this charity or that? Not that it occurs to 
me,” she continued, “ to ask how any individual ob- 
tains or disposes of his income, for a personal income 
is the private property of the man to whom it belongs 
and is his to dispose of as he pleases. Why does the 
world criticise unfavourably the pecuniary position of 
an American lady, whose wealth is the result of a life- 
time of broad study, deep thought and careful research, 
while it does not grudge the fee that often runs into 
three figures, nor the title bestowed on the celebrated 


308 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


surgeon of the present day? The successful barrister, 
novelist, manufacturer, inventor, artist, philosopher, 
poet, pass upon their way unchallenged by opprobrious 
interference ; whether rich or poor, their income is 
regarded as their own. The superficial thought of the 
day has constituted itself its brother’s judge in the 
case of Mrs. Eddy, but it certainly does not maintain 
a judicial attitude in this matter, for it evinces a bias 
due to a hasty judgment, which is in its turn usually 
the offspring of ignorance.” 

They talked for some time longer, while Lady Cecil 
put before Bishop Saul certain metaphysical points 
which he admitted he had overlooked. He did not at- 
tempt to answer them, but finally rose, with some 
reluctance, to take his leave. As she gave him her 
hand, Cecil Gwynne smiled and said : “ Do you not 
think that we have been discussing the private affairs 
of Mary Baker Eddy in a manner in which you certainly 
would not tolerate her discussion of your own ? It does 
not apparently occur to those whose natural refine- 
ment keeps them from mental interference with the 
lives of other well-known men and women, that the 
same courtesy should be evinced towards an American 
lady whose private affairs no more concern them than 
the private affairs of any other public man or woman 
concern you or me.” 

Again, Bishop Saul did not answer his hostess, but 
bidding her good-bye he turned his steps in the direc- 
tion of Richmond. He felt at sea and longed for the 
comparative quiet of the Park, in which to dwell upon 
his recent conversation with Cecil Gwynne. 

In reality he was more impressed by the scientific 
aspect of the matter which she set before him, than 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 309 


by anything else that she had said. His own attitude 
was one of frank dislike towards the author of “ Science 
and Health,” — a dislike which he deliberately did not 
analyse — but upon consideration he saw that the atti- 
tude adopted by Lord Brecon and others who thought 
with him, was untenable: as Lady Cecil had said, the 
unerring law of cause and effect ruled it out of court. 
For a man to admit, as did Brecon, that Christian 
Scientists stand, mentally and morally, above the aver- 
age, and that their text book is not only worthy of 
praise but bears fruit of decided value; for that same 
man to assert that the hand which circulates this book 
and which has in addition built up little by little a 
huge organisation that is obviously increasing daily 
in importance and weight, is soiled by an act of delib- 
erate dishonesty ; that the same hand which gives forth 
these good results is impelled to action by a mercenary 
mind, — is in fact to admit that out of evil good can 
come; whereas the Bible and science both teach, as 
Cecil Gwynne had pointed out, that like produces 
like and not its opposite. 

Longing to know more of the power which gave 
him back his almost dead, Robert Saul had of late 
sought every opportunity to discuss Christian Science, 
and yet he plainly saw that if he would remain at 
his post in the Church of England, he had best with- 
draw at once from all connection with this subject. 
Where might not this search lead him? He almost 
trembled as he thought of the radical change which 
it might come to mean in his successful and now well- 
regulated life. 

And so it was that for some weeks after his con- 
versation with Lady Cecil Gwynne, the Bishop stayed 


810 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


away from London, but he grew less happy every 
day ; the sweet calm, which had for some time possessed 
him, was constantly disturbed by a mental fermentation 
which seemed to bring unwelcomed problems to the 
surface of his mind. 

Malcolm was home now for the holidays and had 
begged that he might bring his friend Robby Camp- 
bell with him; and Bishop Saul, rather to his own 
surprise, had answered readily enough, “ By all 
means.” He did more; he wrote to James Campbell 
and asked him to bring his young brother over and 
himself stay a few days. 

During these summer holidays he often heard the 
children talk in a way so strange and beautiful that 
he acquired a habit of being as much with them as 
his work permitted. Robby Campbell had the straight- 
est way of facing a difficulty, and the simplest, that 
the Bishop had yet met in a child of thirteen ; never- 
theless he was often dismayed at the line of thought 
which Malcolm was rapidly assimilating. He dared 
not interfere, however; that was the simple truth. 
For a new nature seemed to be unfolding in the boy, 
who daily became more joyous and strong. 

Perhaps it was because Bishop Saul realised that 
his nephew would soon reach a point at which decisive 
action for or against this new religion must be taken, 
that he decided to call upon Lady Margaret Courcy 
the next time he went to town. 

Cecil Gwynne had not made the smallest effort to 
influence him in favour of Christian Science, when 
answering his enquiries upon the subject, though it 
was evidently all in all to her. Her calm attitude 
had perhaps piqued him a little. He had expected 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


311 


that she would do for Christian Science that which she 
never would do from a personal motive. He found, 
however, that neither she, nor any of her new friends, 
made the slightest effort to win converts. They 
were, it would appear, very sure of the strength of 
their position, and deemed it neither right nor wise 
to proselytise those who held views antagonistic to 
their own. On the other hand, justice compelled 
Bishop Saul to admit that they spared neither time 
nor trouble when their practical aid was asked for in 
cases of sin or sickness ; when called upon, they were 
always ready to help those in need. 

Thus the pendulum swung backwards and forwards, 
until one day the Bishop decided that he would go to 
town upon the morrow and call upon Lady Margaret 
Courcy; but no sooner was the morrow with him than 
pride (though he did not so designate the prompting 
which bade him remain inactive) urged him to wait a 
little longer. He finally decided to write a long letter 
to Cecil Gwynne, for he felt that he could not let the 
subject rest. 

Then one day an incident occurred which caused 
him to precipitate events in spite of himself. He 
met Lady Margaret Courcy while walking quietly 
through the streets of the old Cathedral town. She 
immediately drew up her ponies and gave him a kindly 
greeting, and he found that she was in residence at 
one of her country seats not ten miles from the Palace. 

They chatted for some time, but only upon matters 
of local interest, and when he finally raised his hat. 
Lady Margaret, though bidding him a genial farewell, 
did not ask him to call upon her. Of course, the 
omission might have been purely accidental, or she 


312 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


might have considered an invitation superfluous, but 
the Bishop was inclined to think that this was not so, 
and he saw that, if he really wished to go further in 
the matter, he must make the first move. The dis- 
comfort which he had experienced during his last inter- 
view with Margaret Courcy in town, was still fresh in 
his memory, and he was now not unwilling to justify 
himself in the eyes of one whom he had always respected 
above the common. 

He grew every day more perturbed in spirit, and 
finally realised that he could not rest until he had 
dived to the heart of this great ethical question, for 
he found that it constantly occupied his mind to the 
exclusion of many weighty duties. 

The only recreation which Bishop Saul allowed him- 
self was a daily country walk of many miles. Wet or 
fine, he rarely failed to leave the Palace grounds shortly 
after luncheon ; and one day he found that he had 
directed his steps towards Wortewood — the small coun- 
try house which belonged to Lady Margaret Courcy. 

He found, upon enquiry, that she was at home. 
While he awaited her, he became aware of a sense of 
rest which he attributed to his material environment 
of the moment. The small drawing-room in which 
he stood was panelled with oak and the dark sur- 
round of the room formed a rich foil to a great china 
bowl which Lady Margaret had evidently filled herself 
with roses. He had known her for years, and knew 
her lavish way of gathering flowers. She only gath- 
ered them because she loved to have them near her, 
and these roses she had picked with bud and branch- 
ing stalk, just as they grew, and now, though it was 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 313 

late summer, they scented the air with memories of 
June. 

When Lady Margaret Courcy entered the room 
Bishop Saul thought, as he had often thought before, 
that she fitted her position better than anyone else 
whom he knew. Always dignified and always calm, 
she impressed him to-day with an added charm — a 
certain gentle kindness to which he could give no 
more precise name, but which immediately relieved his 
own slight embarrassment and made it possible for 
him to state at once the purpose of his visit. 


CHAPTER XXXVI 


THE ANSWER 


I 


report as a man may of God’s work — 

All’s love, yet all’s law. 

— Browning. 


Bishop Saul seated himself in the Venetian chair 
which his hostess indicated and with his usual direct- 
ness said, “ I find myself very much perplexed about 
my little ward, Malcolm Stuart. He has been healed 
by Christian Science, and I myself have derived much 
benefit from it, but there are many points which I do 
not in the least understand, points which I do not 
therefore feel justified in allowing Malcolm to accept; 
and yet, upon my word, I am not sure that, as far as 
the boy is concerned, it is not already too late to 
prevent it. Only yesterday I heard him discussing with 
Robby Campbell, a young Christian Science friend of 
his, that tremendous problem which has defeated the 
greatest intellects in the world— the origin and ulti- 
mate of man.” 

Lady Margaret smiled ; “ Do you not remember the 
Master’s words, 4 Verily I say unto you, whosoever shall 
not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, shall 
in no wise enter therein’? I, too,” she added, “used 
to marvel at the insight of the little child when re- 
garding the deep things of God, but now I realise 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


315 


what Paul meant by his words, 4 For ye see your calling, 
brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, 
not many mighty, not many noble, are called : but God 
hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound 
the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the 
world to confound the things which are mighty.’ You 
see,” she added, 44 the spiritual thought of the little 
child is far less clouded than that of men and women 
who have eaten freely 6 of the tree of the knowledge 
of good and evil.’ The children have had less time 
in which to dim their vision by thinking themselves to 
be as gods.” 

44 I cannot accept your extraordinary views with 
regard to sin, sickness and death. I see these things 
all around me.” The Bishop spoke very emphat- 
ically. 

46 Jesus and his early followers, also the prophets, 
saw them all around them, but time after time they 
proved divine Love to be a law of annihilation to them. 
The law of divine Love is the law of natural good, 
and whenever man sympathetically and understandingly 
puts himself under the protection of this law, he can 
prove the omnipresence of Good and the consequent 
nothingness of suppositional evil.” 

“ Sickness is ordained by the inscrutable wisdom of 
God; we have no right to say that it is an evil.” 

The Bishop’s tone was final. 

“ Then why,” Lady Margaret asked gently, 44 do 
you ever try to cure it? It was Jesus, the W ay-shower , 
who said, 4 1 came down from heaven, not to do mine 
own will, but the will of Him that sent me ’ ; and 
throughout his ministry he devoted much time to the 
healing of the sick. Can you tell me of one single 


316 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


instance in which he, the great Exemplar, said to a 
sick person, 4 This sickness is good — it is of God — 
and you must bear it patiently ’? You know that the 
Gospels do not contain one single record of the kind, 
while in Matthew, where we read that Jesus did not 
heal, we are also told the reason, namely, the unbelief 
of the people — 4 He did not many mighty works there 
because, of their unbelief.’ Again, if sickness is God’s 
work, why did Jesus command his students to cure it — • 
to undo God’s work? He never would have taught 
his followers to undo that which God had done. But 
these are his words, 4 Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, 
raise the dead.’ ” 

44 That command was given to the disciples alone, 
and was enforced for a limited period only.” 

44 Your statement is hardly an answer to my ques- 
tion,” Lady Margaret said quietly ; 44 but can you sup- 
port the statement which you have just made by one 
single word recorded in the New Testament? ” 

44 It is the accepted explanation of the departure of 
the healing power from the Church — accepted by the 
Church for many hundreds of years.” 

44 Granted,” Lady Margaret replied, 44 but that does 
not constitute it a part of God’s law, that law which 
Jesus said was Love. Do you not think that the 
human mind is apt to furnish a man- made explanation 
for its own sins of omission? Is it too much, for 
instance, to say that scholastic theology, failing to 
work those works of which the great Exemplar spoke, 
seeks to use God as a peg upon which to hang its 
own sins of omission, by declaring that He has with- 
drawn from man the promised power to heal the sick 
through prayer alone? It thus attempts to cast the 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 317 

burden of man’s failure upon God, accusing Him of 
all sorts of inconsistencies, of which omnipresent Good, 
omnipotent Love, must necessarily be incapable. In 
Jeremiah xxiii. we read, ‘The prophet that hath a 
dream, let him tell a dream ; and he that hath my word, 
let him speak my word faithfully. What is the chaff 
to the wheat? saith the Lord. . . . And as for 

the prophet, and the priest, and the people, that shall 
say, The burden of the Lord, I will even punish that 
man and his house. . . . And the burden of the 

Lord shall ye mention no more: for every man’s word 
shall be his burden ; for ye have perverted the words of 
the living God, of the Lord of hosts our God.’ ” 

“ All true Christians believe quite as much as you 
do in the efficacy of prayer; Christian Scientists have 
not a monopoly in faith ! ” Bishop Saul spoke a little 
roughly, stirred beyond his wont. 

Lady Margaret smiled gravely as she answered : 
“ For anyone to monopolise the free gift of God to 
man would of course be an illogical impossibility ; fur- 
thermore the daily prayer of the Christian Scientist is 
that 4 the Christ ’ may be so uplifted as to draw all 
men to him. Undoubtedly,” she continued, “ the prayer 
of true faith has always been answered, and isolated 
instances of the healing of the sick through prayer are 
upon record, but it has remained for Christian Science 
to teach mankind that fuller, deeper faith which is, in 
a measure, the understanding of man’s Principle — 
God. Man naturally trusts that power of whom he 
has some understanding, and whose laws he finds him- 
self able to comprehend, more than he trusts a distant 
deity whom theology shrouds in impenetrable mystery 
and gloom. We attach a deeper meaning to faith than 


318 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


that encompassed by the word 4 belief 5 ; we regard blind 
belief as dangerous, and seek rather to obtain the un- 
derstanding of God’s law . If the faith, of which you 
speak, be all that the Christian needs, why do not 
the promised 4 signs ’ follow in answer to orthodox 
Christian prayer? Jesus said, 4 These signs shall 
follow them that believe ; In my name shall they cast 
out devils ; they shall speak with new tongues ; they 
shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly 
thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands 
on the sick, and they shall recover.’ ” 

44 God answers prayer in His way, not in ours,” the 
Bishop replied. 

44 Granted, but Jesus made no reservation when giv- 
ing the promise that 4 these signs shall follow them 
that believe .’ He said further, 4 All things whatsoever 
ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive.’ In 
neither promise is there any hint of reservation nor of 
limitation. Now we know that many Christians have 
for years prayed most earnestly for health ; why, if 
they really believe , do not they obtain the promised 
answer to their prayer? At any rate,” and Lady 
Margaret smiled, 44 it is surely a little unreasonable 
to quarrel with those who do receive the answer; it 
is surely a little illogical to declare that those who 
are able to — and constantly do — prove their faith by 
their works , are more at fault than are those who do 
not. James, you remember, said, 4 Even so faith, if it 
hath not works, is dead, being alone. Yea, a man may 
say, Thou hast faith, and I have works: show me thy 
faith without thy works, and I will show thee my faith 
by my works.’ He also said, 4 The prayer of faith 
shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up.’ ” 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 319 


Once more the Bishop made no direct answer, but 
challenged his companion upon another point. 

“Your views about death are extraordinary; I had 
almost said, absurd.” 

“ They are the views of the true monotheist,” Lady 
Margaret replied. “We believe that God is Life, and 
that all causation, all constitution, all government are 
embraced within His infinitude. We learn from both 
the Old and New Testaments that like produces like, 
and never its opposite. Hence Infinite Life cannot pro- 
duce death, nor can Infinite Good produce evil. The 
teaching of the Bible is surely particularly clear upon 
this point. ‘ The wages of sin, 9 we read, 4 is death ’ ; 
then why sin and thus earn its wage, death? Again, 
4 when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin : and 
sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.’ Now 
could God, who, you will admit, is all Good, produce 
sin — the cause of death — and yet remain entirely 
good? ” 

“ Of course not,” the Bishop answered hastily ; “ God 
did not create evil; He permits it.” 

“How many creators are there?” Lady Margaret 
asked. 

“ One,” the Bishop answered unhesitatingly, and a 
little impatiently. 

“ Then, if there is but one Creator, and He did 
not create evil, who did?” asked Lady Margaret. 

“ You are asking a question which no one in the 
world can answer,” the Bishop said. 

“ I am asking a question which the Bible has always 
answered, and which Jesus himself answered. When 
speaking of evil he said, 4 He was a murderer from the 
beginning, and abode not in the truth, because there 


320 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


is no truth in him. When he speaketh a lie, he speak- 
eth of his own, for he is a liar, and the father of it.’ ” 

“You mean to imply, that all that there is of evil 
is a lie?” 

“ Exactly ; for God, Good , did not create it, and 
there is but the one Creator, of whom we read that he 
does not even know evil. Naturally, Infinite Good can- 
not have any knowledge of evil, or he would immediately 
cease to be entirely Good.” 

“ And death, for instance, you regard as an evil, 
and therefore born only of a lie? Yet it is a grim 
reality. I have seen it often ; so probably have you.” 

“ The storm was a grim reality, portending death, 
to the frightened senses of the disciples, but the law of 
Harmony, of Spirit, Life, set the suppositional laws 
of matter at naught and calmed the waves. No doubt 
death appeared as a grim reality to the senses of those 
who wept over the death of Jairus’ daughter; for you 
remember that when Jesus said, ‘ She is not dead, but 
sleepeth,’ that 6 they laughed him to scorn, knowing 
that she was dead * Yet Jesus immediately reversed 
the seeming law of death by placing the maid under 
the protection of the law of Life — the law of God, 
Good. He further plainly stated that, 6 whosoever 
liveth and believeth in me shall never see death.’ If 
death is a reality, whence came it? From what was 
it evolved? It could not have germinated within the 
mind of Infinite Life and Love, which you admit to be 
the one and only Creator.” 

“ Of course God is not the Creator of death but, 
as I said before, He permits it.” 

“ But He is not Infinite Good, if He even knows 
evil. He is not Infinite Life, if there be in reality 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


321 


any death. Would you hold yourself guiltless, if you 
permitted a wrong, being the while Omnipotent? For 
remember, the God whom you profess to worship is 
All Mighty.” 

64 We cannot understand these things here ; we must 
have faith and believe that God will unfold them to 
us in the fulness of time,” the Bishop spoke a little 
wearily. 

44 But surely it is time that we should seek some solu- 
tion of the problem which has baffled us for so long. 
What is man, to say that life must end? What are 
these 4 imaginations,’ that seek to exalt themselves 
against the power of the Most High? Is not man the 
image and the likeness of his God, and do we not read 
that, 4 whatsoever God doeth, it shall be forever : noth- 
ing can be put to it, nor anything taken from it ’? ” 

44 Still,” the Bishop persisted, 44 people die.” 

44 Yes, because they believe they must; for remember, 
4 as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.’ The world 
is fast asleep. Mesmerised by that false phantom 
Fear, it dreams the dream of death. It knows not 
friend from foe. Whence came the life of man if not 
from God? Yet here lies the world, fast-locked within 
the craven arms of Fear, softly blaspheming in the 
name of 4 resignation ’ ! How can life, which is of 
God, resign itself to death, God’s opposite? How 
dare man hail death a friend, when God, his Father 
and his King, is Life? Yes, the mortal dies, forgetting 
that through the gates of hell man will never enter 
heaven. He bends the knee to death, forgetting that 
thus he denies not only the God who gave man birth 
but also the Saviour who triumphed over death, in 
order to show the world its nothingness.” 


322 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


“Do you not expect to die?” The Bishop asked 
the question amazedly. 

“ I — ,” Lady Margaret’s tone was grave and humble 
as she answered, “ I am but just rousing from the 
Adam-sleep to heed the cry which has resounded 
throughout the ages : — 4 Why will ye die, O house of 
Israel? For I have no pleasure in the death of him 
that dieth, saith the Lord God: wherefore turn your- 
selves, and live ye.’ ” 

“ Christian Scientists die, and will,” Robert Saul 
interrupted again a little roughly. 

“ To say that we of this generation will not die 
would be to assert that which we have not yet proved, 
but every time that a case of sickness, regarded as 
hopeless by materia medica, is cured by Christian 
Science, death has been successfully fought. Because 
the young student, who works out a sum in simple 
addition correctly, fails when trying to work out a 
more difficult problem, you do not question the principle 
of mathematics, but rather tell the student to try 
again, and work more carefully. Because the Christian 
Scientist, temporarily overwhelmed by the false beliefs 
of the ages and by the unbelief of millions of human 
minds, fails in a degree, that does not prove man’s 
Principle to be at fault. Nor can anything make the 
opposite of God, Good, righteous. In Science we face 
death as an evil and as an enemy and know that, in 
time, it must be overcome. For he who is armoured 
in light, must eventually triumph over darkness and 
delusion.” 

After a short silence, Lady Margaret continued, 
“Why did Jesus, the great Exemplar, so joyously 
break bread upon the Galilean shore, after the resur - 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


323 


rection? A deep purpose lay beneath all that Jesus 
did, and Christian Scientists believe that he celebrated, 
upon the shore of Galilee, the most stupendous victory 
that the world has ever seen — the victory of Life, eter- 
nally triumphant over death ; the victory of Love, great 
vanquisher of a world’s mean hate; the victory of 
Truth, total exterminator of the lie.” 

Though the Bishop did not say so, he was impressed 
by the view which Lady Margaret now put before him, 
and it was a fact that he had never before considered 
what might have been the purpose underlying that early 
morning meal. It was undoubtedly true that his 
thought had hitherto halted at the manifestation of 
the resurrected Lord and had then been apt to leap 
from that to the Ascension, and the incident to which 
Margaret Courcy now referred, though of course very 
familiar to him, had not hitherto assumed any great 
importance in his eyes. Now, it suddenly stood out 
with a new-born emphasis and held his attention as 
it never had done before. 

They talked for some time longer, and he was fur- 
ther impressed by the justice of Lady Margaret’s calm 
attitude towards the Leader of Christian Science. She 
assured him that, it was thus that all true Christian 
Scientists regarded Mrs. Eddy, in spite of the mistaken 
statements to the contrary which were so commonly 
circulated by those who were obviously antagonistic. 
It was, he saw, not only natural but inevitable that 
those whose whole lives had been revolutionised and 
made happy by the application of Christian Science, 
should feel deeply grateful to the writer of their text 
book; and it was unquestionably a sound judgment 
which had so successfully organised a Society of such 


324 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

magnitude and regenerative power — an organisation 
which had, moreover, an undoubted claim to be re- 
garded as dignified in the method and presentation of 
its work, and which proved by the calmness and rapid- 
ity of its growth and the intellectual quality of its 
component parts, that it stood beyond the reach of 
angry criticism or ignorant abuse. Robert Saul also 
recognised, though with a curious reluctance, that the 
thought which forwarded a work of so much grace must 
proceed from a heart both loving and pure. He w r ould 
not admit, even to himself, that his views with regard, 
to Christian Science were in danger of reversal, but, in 
spite of himself, he saw the reasonableness of Lady 
Margaret’s final remarks. 

44 We regard Mrs. Eddy,” she said, 44 much I sup- 
pose as the more grateful among the Israelites regarded 
Moses. The wise man of the twentieth century,” she 
added, 44 stands always ready with a really open mind 
to learn from his brother of the past, and while seeking 
to emulate all that is good, he is, upon the other hand, 
careful to glean a useful warning from that brother’s 
mistakes. These mistakes are too often repeated by the 
mortal of to-day; for the condition of mind which 
stoned the 4 man of God ’ thousands of years ago and 
later gave the early Christian to the lions, now cries 
4 Down with him ’ to the mob of to-day, while pointing 
the finger of scorn at all — whether religious, political 
or domestic — who seek to uphold a high ideal, for 
mortal man does not wish to take up his cross nor to 
climb the hill to Calvary. But,” she added, 44 the fury 
of the mortal can do the standard bearers of Truth no 
harm, for to-day, as always, it rests secure in Mind, 
serene, invulnerable, far above the reach of ignorance 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


325 


and hate: while Love triumphant reigns, stately and 
calm, above the bubbles of the human mind, which, 
rising to the surface, have their little day, but, off- 
spring of material thought, they burst even as they 
rise upon the ever-changing bosom of an angry sea, 
thus losing all identity.” 

As Robert Saul walked home through the early 
evening hours, the lovely English country took on an 
aspect of unwonted substantiality, and he asked him- 
self, quite suddenly, what if this beautiful theory should 
be true? what if death should be but a phenomenon 
of human experience? what if the great oaks under 
which he walked, and the wild fern about his feet, were 
but the counterfeit of the real? Glancing away to the 
left, his eye was arrested by a tree, blasted and black- 
ened by the electricity which had changed it from a 
thing of strength and beauty into an unsightly and 
useless item. Regarding it as it marred the landscape 
across which he gazed, Bishop Saul said to himself 
that assuredly life was a more beautiful thing than 
death — a grander and more Godlike expression of the 
Infinite. Was it possible that a tremendous problem 
had been solved? Was it possible that death could be 
relegated to the position of a mere negation by the 
realisation of the allness of Good, Life, and the conse- 
quent understanding of the absence of evil? He saw 
then, logically, that if God were, as Christian Scien- 
tists believed, Life and All-in-All, He must necessarily 
be the Infinite 46 Affirmation.” This being so, death 
could have no real existence and must be regarded 
merely as absence of Life. As his quickened thought 
pursued this new train of reasoning, the Bishop in- 
stantly realised that hitherto he had attributed to 


3 26 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


death an importance which no logic would support. 
What was death, after all, except unconsciousness of 
life? Then it would necessarily follow that, to avoid 
death, man needs only to become continuously conscious 
of life. These people regarded God as Life, hence their 
continuous endeavour to cleave in thought to God. 
Should any individual succeed in so doing and thus 
enter into conscious and unbroken communion with 
Life, it would logically follow that he could never 
know death, for it is not a mental possibility to be 
fully conscious of two opposites at the same instant. 

Thus far Bishop Saul could follow the argument, 
but no further, for he did not believe that man, as 
he knew him, could ever attain to any such perfect 
state of consciousness, and so he once again sought 
to put the whole matter from his mind, and entered, 
more vigorously than before, into the task of reor- 
ganising the interior economy of his diocese. Yet 
certain startling figures which Lady Margaret Courcy 
had quoted, just as he left her house, constantly re- 
curred to his mind. If it were indeed true, as she 
stated, that among that enormous membership of many 
thousands belonging to the Mother Church of her 
denomination in Boston, the percentage of deaths was 
so incomparably smaller than the percentage which 
took place under materia medica in the city of Bos- 
ton, she would appear to be right in her assertion that 
longevity was undoubtedly upon the increase and that, 
in a degree, death was being overcome by the light of 
Christian Science. Further, he knew enough of Chris- 
tian Scientists — he had met many while in London — 
to recognise that the membership of all Christian 
Science Churches is composed, in a great measure, of 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 327 


people whom no insurance company would have ac- 
cepted, when they first handed over their cases to the 
Christian Science practitioner. He knew therefore 
that this was the stock from among which those remark- 
able statistics had been taken. But Bishop Saul did 
not want to be convinced of the substantiality of Chris- 
tian Science, and so he deliberately turned from the 
subject and focussed his thought upon other matters ; 
nor would he admit, even to his own heart, that his 
mental attitude was one of greater uncertainty than 
before his long conversation with Lady Margaret 
Courcy. 


CHAPTER XXXVII 


THE SWING OF THE PENDULUM 

Choose you this day whom ye will serve. 

— Joshua. 

The period which immediately followed upon his long 
talk with Lady Margaret Courcy was, to Bishop Saul, 
one of acute discomfort. He felt that he had reached 
the time in his life which William Shakespeare — that 
close student of humanity — so well portrayed when he 
wrote : 

There is a tide in the affairs of men, 

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; 

Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
Is bound in shallows, and in miseries. 

But what he did not clearly understand was the 
magnitude of the choice which lay before him. Two 
roads were his from which to choose ; that he did 
understand; and the mortal longed to follow the one 
which quite certainly led to honour and renown. But 
Robert Saul was conscious of a power which at times 
threatened entirely to overrule this worldly desire, by 
impelling his thought in an opposite direction. What 
was this mighty force at work upon his soul? He 
would not stop to ask, but sought repeatedly to crush 
it, declaring that he would not be controlled against 
his will, and by a power which had come unbidden 
into his life! Thus he wooed to his side his bitterest 
328 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 329 


foe and trampled under foot the seed which held for 
him the knowledge of eternal Good. 

Next Sunday would be the first Sunday in Septem- 
ber, and with something of a shock Bishop Saul remem- 
bered that, when first taking over the duties of the 
diocese, he had acquiesced in a suggestion, put for- 
ward by his predecessor, that he should take the oppor- 
tunity in the early autumn, when the old town of 
Exminster was always unusually full, to preach his 
second sermon upon Christian Science. “ It was get- 
ting a hold in the neighbourhood,” Bishop Long had 
explained, “ and needed to be stamped out, before it 
did more harm.” 

So the Bishop had pledged himself to preach on this • 
subject upon the first Sunday in September, and now 
the day was almost upon him. There was no escape, 
and he wanted none. Indeed, he declared again, as he 
had declared once before, that he was very ready to 
do his plain duty in this matter. Undoubtedly Chris- 
tian Science had saved Malcolm’s life, and he was not 
ungrateful, but obviously he, as a conspicuous repre- 
sentative of the established Church, could not tacitly 
encourage, by leaving it unmolested in his diocese, a 
doctrine so unorthodox as was this new religion which, 
though undoubtedly founded on Truth, had branched 
into a conspicuous heresy. He knew that Lady Mar- 
garet Courcy was held in much respect in the neigh- 
bourhood, and that, amongst others, many of her ten- 
ants were already deeply interested in Christian Science. 

The early part of the week passed and found the 
Bishop’s sermon still unwritten. Though it was his 
custom to preach extempore , he remembered — and 
flushed uncomfortably as he recalled the circumstance 


330 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


— that his previous attempt to preach upon the sub- 
ject of Christian Science had been a dismal failure, 
even though he had taken the unusual precaution to 
write out his sermon upon that occasion. That had 
been his one failure, and it rankled in a mind grown a 
little sleek with the success of years. This time he 
would surpass himself! He would, indeed he must, 
admit the healing power of Christian Science; he had 
no desire to do otherwise, but he would point out to 
the souls entrusted to his guidance the grave danger 
which threatened those who left the Catholic Church 
for the shelter of any other fold; and he would sug- 
gest that the Church of England should set its house 
in order and itself heal the sick by prayer. Why not? 
If these people could recover a life so nearly lost as 
had been Malcolm’s by the power of prayer alone, why 
should not others do the same? Moreover, was the 
apostolic succession to be set at naught by these non- 
conformists? Surely those who were spiritually en- 
dowed — highly educated theologians, men thoroughly 
au fait with the early history of the Christian Church 
— were especially qualified to approach the throne of 
grace. The Church must of course emphatically dis- 
sociate itself from Christian Science in this healing 
work. It must be clearly understood that it had no 
connection at all with that organisation, but why should 
not the Catholic Church obtain the same results by 
better and more orthodox means? 

Why not, Bishop Saul? Why, simply because like 
produces like and never its opposite. Thus out of the 
mouth of Love do not come blessings and curses, from 
the same fount do not flow “ sweet waters and bitter,” 
and the religion which bows a trembling knee before a 


331 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

man-made God of good and evil — a theoretical God 
who, alternating between wrath and love, sometimes 
blesses but more often curses his children — cannot work 
the works of Him who is entirely good, entirely loving, 
nay more, who is Love. 

And so the few remaining days came and went. 
Many acquaintances had ventured to say to the Bishop 
that they were looking forward with special interest 
to his sermon upon the following Sunday: but this 
was Saturday, and the sermon was, as yet, unshaped 
within his mind. That day his uncle was so evidently 
worried than towards evening Malcolm, whose holidays 
were now nearly over, sat gravely down upon the 
side of his bed and considered the matter. 

“ Why,” the boy asked himself, “ was not Uncle 
Robert a Christian Scientist ? ” It had surprised him 
greatly, as soon as he himself was well enough to 
understand what had saved his life, that his uncle did 
not accept, with the blessing, the doctrine through 
which that blessing had come. Now he plainly saw 
that “ Uncle Robert ” was very much troubled about 
something, and though he quite realised that the Bishop 
did not like Christian Science, he had no idea that he 
contemplated the delivery of another sermon upon the 
subject. Malcolm very distinctly remembered that he 
had suffered while his uncle preached that sermon 
in London, and, indeed, looking back, he saw by the 
aid of the clearer vision which now was his, that it was 
that very sermon which had first made the subject of 
Christian Science run so continually through his own 
mind. He had never told anyone this; he was abso- 
lutely loyal to “ Uncle Robert,” but he definitely dated 
certain questions which had troubled him all through 


332 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


his long illness, from that memorable Sunday. Now, 
he sat upon his bed and asked, “ What can be done 
to make Uncle Robert happy? ” And soon he took the 
only course which could occur to his awakened thought, 
he laid his trouble before the God whom he had 
lately learnt was most emphatically “ a God at hand ” 
and “ a very present help in trouble,” — a Father, in 
fact, into whose presence a little child might walk with- 
out fear or hesitation. The boy made no long prayer 
about the matter ; it was all quite simple. “ Uncle 
Robert ” seemed to be unhappy, but God’s law was a 
law of Love, of happiness, and “ Uncle Robert ” was 
God’s son, it was therefore his divine right to be happy. 
It only needed light, it only needed that “ Uncle Rob- 
ert ” should see the Truth, and of course he, Malcolm, 
would ask that the light should so shine upt>n his 
uncle’s path that he should see clearly just where hap- 
piness was waiting for him. It did not enter the 
child’s head that anyone could deliberately shut their 
eyes to, and turn away from, the thing which had 
already so cheered their life. Thus the boy, for a 
short space, held silent commune with Mind, and then 
went to sleep quite happy in the conviction that those 
who “ ask ” shall most surely “ receive.” 

That evening the Bishop rose early from the dinner 
table and went to his library ; in a few moments a ser- 
vant entered with the last post. Only one letter for 
his Lordship, but one for which he had looked anxiously 
for some days. It was from Lady Cecil Gwynne in 
answer to the long letter which he had written to her 
after his conversation with Margaret Courcy. H'e 
opened it eagerly the moment his servant had left the 
room. 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


333 


“ I did not hasten to reply to your long letter,” 
Cecil Gwynne wrote, “ because I hoped that you would 
come and see me. You know, do you not, that Chris- 
tian Scientists do not seek converts, still I am tempted 
to plead with you for once. For once I ask you to 
look this thing fairly in the face. Of you, a man of 
my own race, I ask, What has made England great? 
Is it not, in a measure, her fairness which, by endear- 
ing her to her conquered foe, has made her dominion 
widespread, because enduring , enabling her rule to 
settle into strength where other nations have advanced 
only to retreat. Of you — once a public school boy — 
who, bat in hand or foot to ball or again with body 
bent forward for your stroke, learnt during those dearly 
loved days of your English boyhood the simple lesson 
of fair play, I ask neither more nor less but that you 
should look this Science fairly in the face. Do not 
condemn it unheard, simply because it is new and seem- 
ingly hard to understand. Turn it here and turn it 
there. Search it to the core. It does not shun enquiry. 
You do not condemn the prisoner at the bar without 
a fair trial; you would not deliver judgment upon any 
point in astronomy without first really studying the 
matter; you do not discuss politics without carefully 
reading your daily papers. Again, you did not at- 
tempt higher mathematics until you had accepted the 
principle that one and one are two, and then gradually 
progressed in wisdom and in knowledge from that given 
point. Can you not accept God, Good, as Principle 
and as ‘ All-in-All 7 Can you not work out the prob- 
lem of life by putting yourself under the protection of 
the law of Love. If you will but try, Robert, this law 
will surely lead you to where Freedom reigns supreme. 


334 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


I need not remind you that nearly two thousand years 
ago, the Prince of Peace, the great Physician, the Mas- 
ter Metaphysician, said ; 4 Lo, I am with you alway, 
even unto the end of the world.’ 4 If ye love me, keep 
my commandments.’ 4 1 . will manifest my- 

self unto you.’ Robert, will you not 4 come and see ’ 
the healing Christ at work to-day? Will you not come 
and see his promise in process of fulfilment? Will you 
not come and see the healing Christ made manifest — 
the lame walking, the blind with sight restored, the sick 
healed ? 

44 You know already that you will be asked to believe 
nothing without proof. There are very many differing 
sects of Christianity, but Christian Science alone is 
able to prove its faith by its healing works, done in 
obedience to the divine command. Will you be less 
fair in this matter than in a game of cards? Will you 
not 4 prove all things; hold fast that which is good’? 
Perpetual progress is the eternal law of Mind. Can 
materialism hope to reverse that which has been since 
the world began, even the law of Spirit? Upon every 
side the cry goes up for light ; upon every side we see 
the latest invention shelved to make way for a later 
yet. Shall man alone stagnate? Surely, Robert, this 
thing cannot be? Rather shall a sinning, suffering 
world listen to the words of that great Counsellor — 
the holy Nazarene — words pregnant with a world’s 
salvation. Penetrating through the dust of ages and 
with tender might sweeping away the false god, mate- 
rialism, his words point ever upward, ever onward, 
commanding the sleeper to awaken and to start now 
while it is day, upon the work of all eternity , — even 
the acquisition of the knowledge of God , Good. 4 For 


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THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

this is life eternal, to know thee the only true God, 
and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.’ And dare 
we forget that 4 now is the accepted time ; behold, now 
is the day of salvation ?’ Late in the nineteenth cen- 
tury Christian Science challenged the world to mortal 
combat. How has that challenge been answered? By 
much shouting from those who, in many cases, have 
not stopped to realise that mere abuse is no argument. 
But still the healing Christ works on, pure, serene, 
untroubled by the storm of sensualism and sin: and, 
wherever it goes, Christian Science turns the thought 
of man from darkness to the Light, from sickness to 
health, and lifts it away from the things of earth up 
into the realm of eternal Mind. Its trail is marked 
by happy homes, by joyous faces, by quiet prosperity, 
by an abiding love of Good. Practice versus theory, 
logical simplicity versus illogical confusion, result in 
harmony and health. Do not misunderstand the atti- 
tude of Christian Science with regard to the Christian 
Church. It acknowledges its indebtedness to the 
Church for having nursed the Truth for nearly two 
thousand years, but it may no longer be kept in swad- 
dling clothes. The time has come when man must 
have the Christ Truth, in all its manhood’s strength 
and power as presented over nineteen hundred years 
ago by the simple Nazarene. It must be divested of 
man-made creeds and episcopalian ceremony, for 4 Ye 
cannot serve God and mammon.’ Every form, every 
ceremony, every stereotyped prayer are just so many 
vain 4 imaginations,’ seated in the place of God, serving 
only to hide the spiritual idea. Jesus, the Way-shower, 
directed us with grand simplicity to use just one all- 
inclusive prayer. He gave us just one all-embracing 


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THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


commandment ; 4 Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with 
all thy heart, . . . and thy neighbour as thyself.* 

44 You ask me of the 4 Trinity.* First, I will tell 
you what the Trinity is not to the Christian Scientist. 
It is not three Persons in one Person. I will try to 
tell you a little of what it is to us. A spiritual Real- 
ity , a substantial Actuality , an infinite Unity of peace 
and power, a perfect and eternal Entity, 4 having 
neither beginning of days nor end of life,’ a living 
Truth, a deathless Love, a co-equal, co-eternal, forever- 
indivisible Three-in-One and One-in-Three, Life , Truth 
and Love — even God, Mind. See! you cannot take 
Love from Life, for who would have life bereft of love? 
You cannot take Life from Love, for of what worth 
is a love that has never lived? Naught but a still- 
born thought is there. You cannot take Truth from 
either, or you reduce that which is all to a mere nega- 
tion.” 

Bishop Saul read Lady Cecil Gwynne’s letter 
through twice, then he rose to ring the bell and gave 
orders to the servant that he should require nothing 
more that night, nor must he on any account be dis- 
turbed. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 


PENIEL 

Thy name shall be called no more Jacob, but Israel: 
for as a prince hast thou power with God and with men, 
and hast prevailed. 

— Genesis. 

For an hour or more Robert Saul sat with Cecil 
Gwynne’s letter in his hand. Again and again the 
remarkable definition of the “ Trinity,” which she had 
therein placed before him, seized upon his thought and, 
lifting it, held it to a point to which it never had 
before attained — an altitude so high indeed, that he 
declared no mortal might stand upon such holy ground 
and live. Rising abruptly from his seat, he went to 
his bureau and unlocked a drawer from which he with- 
drew a little book. Resolved to carry through his 
resolution, he had written to a London library and 
from there had borrowed a copy of the Chistian Science 
text book, but so far, he had refrained from opening 
it. Now, however, the eleventh hour was upon him, 
and his sermon must be ready upon the morrow. Seat- 
ing himself in front of his desk, he wrote steadily, 
picking out a line here and there and interpreting it 
to suit his own determination. To a certain extent, 
perhaps, he did this unconsciously, but not altogether 
so; and he knew quite well that he was not acting as 
he would have wished a brother to act towards him. 

337 


338 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


He knew very well that no book can be fairly reviewed 
by a mind already made up against it. At last his 
sermon was finished and he was perfectly aware that 
it amounted to neither less nor more than an antago- 
nistic criticism of the Christian Science text book. 
Bishop Saul knew that the gist of a book cannot be 
fairly set before a body of people by the isolation of 
short passages disconnected from their context. But 
he intended to preach upon this subject before twelve 
hours should pass, and he was upon the whole satisfied 
with the sermon which he had written. It was, he con- 
cluded, cleverly written and much more even in tone 
than that first sermon which he had preached upon 
Christian Science. He did not, however, admit, even 
to his own mind, that this was a less honest utterance 
than the former, and that, while writing it, he had been 
obliged to send away unanswered — because he would 
not pause to answer them — certain questions which had 
persistently presented themselves to him while he wrote. 

It was late now, and he suddenly felt very tired. He 
arranged his sermon neatly in its soft leather cover 
and tied a ribbon which thus held it safe. Opening 
a drawer, he placed qt within, and then carefully shut- 
ting and locking the drawer he went upstairs. 

Whenever his little nephew was at home, it was 
Bishop Saul’s invariable custom to turn aside, on his 
way to his own bedroom at night, to enter the child’s 
room. Malcolm always slept with his blind up and 
the window open, and the cool air which greeted Rob- 
ert Saul as he opened the door, was grateful and 
refreshing. 

He pressed a button on the wall and thus turned up 
an electric light, which was placed behind the boy’s 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


339 


bed. He himself had interviewed the workmen about 
the lighting of the room, and had ordered this par- 
ticular fitting to be carefully shaded so that the light 
should not inconvenience Malcolm when asleep. 

He now bent over the boy and breathed a soft prayer 
of thanksgiving for his perfect restoration to health. 
As he stood watching him, Malcolm threw his right 
arm above his head with a free gesture, and Robert 
Saul noted the rounded curves which now replaced the 
sharp lines that once had outlined the child’s face and 
form. Involuntarily, he compared his nightly visits of 
late with those weary pain-fraught vigils of a year ago ; 
and again he breathed the words, “ Thank God.” 

As he did so, the boy stirred in his sleep. Opening 
his eyes he smiled at the grave face bent over him, 
then lifted his arm and flung it round his uncle’s neck. 
Robert kissed him tenderly and arranged; the bed- 
clothes more cosily around his one ewe lamb, bending 
low as he did so in order that he might not lose the 
full sweetness of the child’s soft “ Good-night.” But 
instantly he lifted his head and stood suddenly up- 
right, for what had the clear young voice said, as the 
boy turned happily upon his side and slept once more. 

46 Thank God for Christian Science .” 

Bishop Saul’s face was stern as he seated himself 
in the high armchair which he often occupied while 
superintending some small personal matter for Mal- 
colm: and, as he sat there, those questions which had 
been swimming only just below the surface of his de- 
liberate thought all the evening, once more presented 
themselves. This time they remained with him, until 
he turned and gave them full reply. His face showed 
signs of the hot argument within him. For a long time 


340 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


he sat there in a rigid silence, and when finally he rose 
he left the room rather noisily, and a little hurriedly. 
Forgetful, for once, of Malcolm’s comfort, he did not 
turn off the light, and the child, awakened perhaps by 
the noise of his uncle’s departure, opened his eyes in 
time to see his disturbed face clearly reflected in a mir- 
ror which hung upon the wall opposite to his bed. Mal- 
colm, in his turn, became thoughtful and lay long awake 
though with his eyes closed. 

Presently he rose from his bed, and went to the 
Bishop’s room. 44 Uncle Robert ” was not there, and 
instantly the child understood that old habit had called 
the man forth upon one of those midnight rambles in 
which he used so often to indulge. Going to the win- 
dow, he discerned the Bishop’s tall figure as he walked 
slowly across the lawn. The night was a dark one, but 
a bright street lamp threw a path of light across the 
further end of the short drive, and Malcolm saw his 
uncle unlock the side gate and carefully relock it upon 
the other side: he watched him as he turned in the di- 
rection of the open country. 

Then the boy went back to his room, but not to sleep ; 
there was work to do, and his it was to do it. Evi- 
dently 44 Uncle Robert ” needed help, and of course the 
help was already his. To-night Malcolm had his own 
little battle to fight. In after years he looked back 
upon that night, and it then appeared, by the light of 
greater victories, a very small thing that he had done ; 
yet, at the time, the battle seemed a fierce one, and the 
soldier young to carry all before him. For, minute by 
minute, he needed to hold his own against the school- 
boy sleep that sought to weigh his eyelids down ; step 
by step, he must beat his enemy back, till untimely 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 341 


slumber should flee before him; nor did he break his 
faithful watch until the light of day brought with it 
full measure of joy, pressed down and running over. 

But the night was still around both man and boy 
when Malcolm first arose and took his stand upon the 
watch tower; while Bishop Saul, knowing nothing of 
the little sentinel who mounted guard over him, walked 
steadily onwards through the darkness. Leaving the 
town behind him, he at last reached a favourite spot. 
The country was wild and rugged here at the head 
of this rocky glen, where he and Malcolm often rested 
during their rambles across the beautiful country sur- 
rounding the old city of Exminster. 

Bishop Saul did not sit down, but leant a little 
heavily — for he seemed to be strangely tired — against 
a young tree, which he and Malcolm always used as a 
landmark. And just there, where he and the thoughtful 
child had held many a sage conversation, he now sought 
and obtained answer to the question of the ages — 
“ What is truth?” 

But not easily did he yield obedience to the answer 
when it came; not readily did he turn to follow the 
guiding star which he now saw had arisen for him. 
For such a man it was doubly hard to journey to the 
spot “ where the young child lay ” ; it was doubly hard 
for such an one to worship Mind where matter had sat 
so long enthroned; to pull down cherished idols one 
by one, to bow low, and lower yet, is ever hard to the 
pride of life and power. Sore was the travail of that 
new birth : right bitter was that human cry, born of 
those death-throes which must precede the mortal’s 
ascent from matter into Mind. Once only did that 
awful cry, as of a man in fearful pain, master the 


342 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


strong will that sought to silence it; pressing its way 
out into the night, it crept down the rocky gorge like 
a homeless wanderer seeking rest and finding none, till 
its life was lost amid the very echoes to which it had 
given birth. For the most part the man wrestled 
silently. Through the long hours he stood there al- 
most motionless. With his arms folded high across 
his breast and his head sunk low, he seemed a monument 
carved upon the semi-darkness. Once and once again 
his form shook with the raging of the storm within, 
while, like the fierce growl of a beast at bay, low 
mutterings forced their way between his straightened 
lips. 

Then a great silence bound him, nor did it let him 
go until the day broke, and Freedom claimed him for 
her own. 

Robert Saul knew not how to do a thing at all, un- 
less he did that thing most wholly; and as the white 
light of the early dawn baptised him with its promise 
of a new-born day, he homed within his breast the 
angels which, throughout that night of pain, he had 
been entertaining unawares. Now learning for the first 
time the true lesson of the cross, he lifted his awakened 
vision far above the crucifix, and sought “ the resurrec- 
tion and the life.” Thus he turned forever from the 
creed of man to the holy law of God; and thus we 
leave him, nor seek to ask further question of his 
lonely vigil; for man must ever bear his Gethsemane 
alone, nor may he climb the hill of Calvary save he 
lean only upon the “ everlasting arms.” 

Nay! pity him not, ye men and women of the world; 
pity him not, for his redemption draweth nigh. What 


343 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

if the mortal throes sear through the flesh as might 
liquid fire? After the crucifixion cometh the resur- 
rection. “ The burning fiery furnace ” will but loosen 
his bonds : and now, behold him free, walking amid the 
flames with one whose form “ is like the Son of God ” ! 

Oh, ye, who play with glittering phantasies ; oh, ye, 
whose all is but an empty dream! Pity him not: but 
turn and leave him. Tread softly and with shoeless 
feet, for the place whereon ye gaze is holy ground. 
Leave him with his risen Christ; leave him with the 
Prince of Peace. 

And haste ye, haste, ye men and women of the 
world! Go get ye oil and trim your lamps, for the 
bridegroom tarries not for those who slumber, nor for 
those who sleep. Haste ye, haste! and don your wed- 
ding robes! see quickly to your spotless white, that 
when the call to you shall come, ye too may take your 
stand with that great multitude who, all radiantly 
apparelled, working, watching, praying, ever praise 
Him day and night singing Holy, Holy, Holy, the 
First, the Last, the Evermore-Shall-Be. Then from 
the great white throne shall come the benediction: — 
“ He that overcometh shall inherit all things ; and I 
will be his God, and he shall be my son.” 

Thus shall “ all nations, and kindreds, and people, 
and tongues,” one day “ see His face ” and receive 
His name upon their foreheads. 


CHAPTER XXXIX 


OUT OF DARKNESS INTO HIS MARVELLOUS LIGHT 

Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul! 

As the swift seasons roll, 

Leave thy low-vaulted past: 

Let each new temple, nobler than the last, 

Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, 

Till thou at length art free, 

Leaving thine outgrown shell by life’s unresting sea. 

— Lowell. 

The nameless stir of early morning! A white-robed 
child upon the stair; a man’s firm tread and sudden 
halt. Then! one short moment wonder-filled; and then 
— a little child sobbing softly, upon the throbbing 
heart of a grateful man ; and after — slow speech, each 
word a soft caress, “ Malcolm, little Malcolm ! have you 
watched the night with me ? ” 

The beautiful old cathedral was filled with men and 
women eager to hear the Bishop of Exminster preach. 
Many, only in the city for the harvest week, had ar- 
ranged to stay over the Sunday on purpose to attend 
this service, and many others had travelled far that 
lovely autumn morning, drawn partly by a desire to 
judge for themselves whether Bishop; Saul were as 
highly gifted as the world said, and partly by a less 
conscious, but not less strong desire, to hear what were 
the views of so great a man upon the much vexed 
344 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


345 


question of Christian Science. The choir had just be- 
gun the rendering of the anthem, when a woman, hard 
and colourless of face, and dressed in the grey uniform 
of a hospital nurse, might have been seen, had any 
chanced to observe her, standing among the great elms 
which lined the central walk of the Close. She held a 
half-sheet of paper in her hand and smiled as she read 
the words upon it. 

44 Best,” she muttered, 44 for him to have abided by 
that other half and parted with the boy for a time 
only, when ill. Now, he shall pay me well for this 
postscript of a later date, or part with the child for 
ever.” 

Placing the paper in her breast she hurried towards 
the western door and pushed her way through the disap- 
pointed numbers who were now leaving the door. 

“ It’s no use,” a good-natured yeoman told her, 
44 there wasn’t room for a baby long before the service 
began, and hundreds have gone away disappointed.” 

44 I must get in,” she exclaimed sharply, 44 I’m wanted 
by a sick lady inside.” 

44 Is that so? Well, come along and we’ll see if 
we can squeeze a little ’un like you through, but I’m 
thinking that, unless you know just where to look 
for your 4 sick lady,’ she’ll be long in wanting you.” 

Thus they fought an opening through the crowd, 
and the woman, using her lie with good effect, stood 
at last well up in the middle aisle. Her face wore a 
strained and anxious look. Money she must have, 
money she would have, and she had come to listen to 
this sermon in order to see just how much that half- 
sheet of paper which she carried was now worth. 
44 Fool,” she mentally exclaimed, 44 blind fool ! never to 


346 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


see that I had torn the letter apart ; ” and the lines 
about her mouth became more straight as she remem- 
bered that the aftermath, which her hand controlled, 
was like to bow a proud head to the dust and break 
a heart which had dared once again to hope. “ If,” 
she argued, “ if he hates Christian Science as he hated 
it a year ago, I will ask a fat lump for the letter now. 
If he loves the child as much as people say he does, 
he will pay me a right good fistful for it.” 

She could not see Bishop Saul from where she stood, 
and it was not until the choir commenced the singing 
of the second hymn and he mounted the pulpit steps, 
that he became visible to the majority present. 

Every head was instantly raised, and every eye ob- 
served the man, who was freely spoken of as Eng- 
land’s future Archbishop. 

Upon this occasion many had expected Bishop Saul, 
whose ritualistic views were well known, to wear his 
mitre, but he did not. Very imposing nevertheless was 
the central figure in that great church. Robert Saul 
had always been one of those whom men turn to look 
at. His athletic form and his fine head made him a 
noticeable man anywhere. To-day, he stood alone. 
Clothed in the robes which marked his office, the light 
falling full upon his face and dyeing to a brighter 
crimson the hood he wore, he drew the thought of the 
multitude upon him; and many present asked them- 
selves, had they ever before seen so grand a man ? As 
a boy he had always carried himself beyond his years 
and seemed to set man’s calendar at naught. To-day, 
strangers, studying his appearance for the first time, 
decided that after all he was not so young a bishop as 
repute declared him to be. That was the first impres- 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 347 

sion, followed later by the thought that it was impos- 
sible to approximate the age of anyone, whose face 
became suddenly transformed when he smiled. He did 
not speak at first. Indeed, it seemed a long time that 
he stood there stationary and calm, not looking at the 
unnumbered crowd below him, but gazing intently at a 
child who sat beneath the pulpit steps. The boy sud- 
denly raised his bright eyes and smiled up in the man’s 
face, and those who were wont to speak of Bishop 
Saul’s dark eyes as gloomy, and who thought his beauty 
marred by oversternness, would not have said it then ; 
for as his eyes rested upon the boy’s sweet face, they 
gave ba,ck smile for smile. 

A watching woman in the throng closed her hand 
upon a letter which she carried next her breast, and her 
mouth hardened as she observed the two. “ Good,” she 
murmured in her heart, “ I will ask another hundred of 
my lord ! ” 

And now the Bishop raised his head and gave forth 
his text : — 

“ In the Epistle of Paul to Titus, in the first chapter 
andi the seventh verse,” he said, “ is the following 
declaration : — 

“ ‘ For a bishop must be blameless, as the steward 
of God ; not self-willed, not soon angry ; ’ and in the 
Acts of the Apostles, in the first chapter and the 
twentieth verse, we read these words ; ‘ Let his habita- 
tion be desolate, and let no man dwell therein; and 
his bishoprick let another take.’ ” 

Bishop Saul paused, and the whole of that vast 
company were stirred by the presence of something 
which they felt was in their midst, but which had not 
yet declared its form. At first the Bishop’s voice had 


348 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


shaken while he spoke, but as he uttered the last part 
of his strangely chosen text, the words rang out clear 
and strong and reached the farthest corner of the 
building. 

Only Malcolm understood. His face flushed a little, 
and his eyelids dropped over his eyes while his heart 
was filled with prayer and praise. Robert Saul looked 
at the child, and he too understood — understood that a 
brother’s hand had reached him in the dark and would 
not let him tread the winepress quite alone. Wonder- 
ously upheld, he immediately took up his theme and 
never wavered till the last word was said. 

“ My brothers and my sisters ” — and the Bishop’s 
voice was very clear and strangely quiet in its tone — 
“ I, your Bishop, have a short story to tell you, a 
true story — the story of a man’s mistake. This man 
had always led a lonely life, and always he had hun- 
gered to be loved. One day, he found himself beloved, 
and that he was (or so he thought) no longer hungry. 
But something came (or so he thought) between him 
and the one who loved him. Then he, 6 self-willed ’ and 
< soon angry,’ pushed the one who loved him from his 
breast and nurtured hatred in his heart for the thing 
that had, so he declared, separated him from her who 
loved him. And he vowed that he would slay this 
thing, but found that he could not do so. For it grew 
in beauty and in grace in spite of all that he could do. 
It saved the sinner, and it healed the sick, in spite of 
pride of priestcraft and of power. At every turn it 
mastered him; but still he fought it and hated it the 
more. And all the time he hungered to be loved ; he 
hungered also for renown, for place and power ; and for 
honour second only to a king’s. 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 349 

“ Then one day there came into his life a second 
love — a sister in need of help. A gentle little wayside 
flower. He took her to his heart and was less hungry 
than before, and he loved that sister’s child. When 
once again, the thing he hated came between him and 
his love (or so he thought) . . . therefore 

. . . he stole that child, and . . . killed that 

sister. Then he took that sister’s child and folded him 
within his heart, and for the third time love was his, 
and this time he swore that he would keep it, come what 
would. And for the third time , the thing he hated rose 
up and asked of him his love — the child! A woman, 
she who had stood beside the death-bed of his sister, 
stood before him with a calculating face and said, 6 1 
hold a document — a legal document, though written by 
a dying hand — which says that your ward shall be 
cared for, if ill, not by you but by a stranger whose 
name you scarcely know.’ But he knew the stranger’s 
name full well : and one other thing besides he knew — 
that this stranger loved the thing which he himself 
hated most in all the world, and so ... he gave 
that woman money, and thus he kept the child and 
loved him, as it seemed to him, with an everlasting 
love. Then as the days passed by, he asked the child 
to love him back again, so that he might not be hungry 
night and day. The child was rich, and the man was 
very poor, for he had lost all that the child possessed 
and, of course, had paid it back even unto the uttermost 
farthing. But he did not tell the child that he was rich, 
for he said in his heart ; ‘ The boy must look to me for 
everything, and learn to lean on me alone ! ’ Dis- 
honest? Yes — but — he loved the child; and asked only 
that the child should love him back again. And so 


350 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


he did ; and the man’s heart-hunger was stayed awhile. 
But as the days pased on, the months brought only 
pain, for the child sickened and almost died. Then a 
strange thing happened. This thing, which the man 
had tried to kill — this thing that he had hated with 
a deadly hate — rose up once more and placed the child, 
now living , in his arms. What more could he want, 
for place and power were also his, and honour and re- 
nown, but still — he was often hungry, and still he tried 
to slay that which had given him back his almost 
dead. 

“ My brothers and my sisters, you have heard that 
* a bishop must be blameless,’ ‘ not self-willed, not soon 
angry.’ What think you ? I am that man ! ” 

As the modulated voice dropped low and ceased its 
utterance, a great silence reigned, and every eye was 
held to one point in that vast throng, for Robert Saul, 
with action unpremeditated yet very calm, unloosed 
the lawn about his neck, and raising hands which trem- 
bled, though none knew it, he lifted the hood above his 
head and laid it across the pulpit rail. Quietly, and 
without haste, he unfastened the white frilled sleeves 
and drew robe and surplice gently off. His cassock 
he unbuttoned with fingers now quite firm and folded 
it beside the hood. And that silent congregation, in 
awe-struck wonder, watched him, shocked beyond meas- 
ure at that which was happening in their midst. None 
moved, none lowered their gaze from the Bishop’s form, 
as he stood before them garbed in the quiet dress of 
an English gentleman. Yes ! someone stirred. A 
woman, her colourless face now dyed red with wrath, 
pushed and elbowed her way down the aisle towards the 
western door. “Fool!” she muttered, “fool! to wait 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 351 


so long ! now, I am undone ! ” But none noticed her, 
none took their steadfast gaze from Bishop Saul. Yes ! 
one other moved. A child rose from his seat, and 
swiftly mounted the pulpit steps ; and now a flaxen 
head and a boy’s young face was visible above the 
carved oak rail; then a little hand rested upon the 
strong white hand of Robert Saul, as a child’s clear 
treble, sweet and strong, broke the strange silence 
which possessed the attentive throng. 

“ Uncle! I am here.” 

That was all that the boy could say, and it was 
almost more than Robert Saul knew how to bear. 
Now women wept, though silently, and men’s stern 
faces grew more stern. 

Robert Saul covered the boy’s hand with his own, 
and thus they stood together side by side. And now 
the man’s musical voice, overflowing with a note of 
gladness, reached every waiting heart, as he repeated 
softly and slowly the last words of his text : “ Let 

his habitation be desolate, and let no man dwell therein, 
and his bishoprick let another take.” 

Now the women trembled but were silent, and men 
sat very still, as is the manner of the English-born 
whose hearts are overfull ; for man and boy had turned 
and, hand in hand, descended the pulpit steps. Reach- 
ing the head of the nave, Robert Saul paused upon the 
top step of the chancel, and standing there, the light 
from a near window rested upon his dark head, while it 
lit into a softer radiance the gold of the boy’s bright 
hair. 

Suddenly the man threw his shoulders back and held 
one arm behind him with an easy grace. 

“ My brothers and my sisters,” he said — his voice 


252 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


was now stronger than before, and buoyant with a 
new-born strength — “ this thing of which I have told 
you bears a little-honoured name, and yet it is a name 
which indicates, as I now understand, that for which 
many men have long been waiting — a religion that is 
also scientific. I had promised to preach to you to-day 
upon the subject of Christian Science, but now I do 
not dare to preach to you at all; and moreover, if I 
would, I could not tell you of that of which I myself 
have yet to learn by far the greater part. I have told 
you that Christian Science has given me back my al- 
most dead, but I believe that it holds a blessing greater 
by far than that, for those whose hearts are hungering 
for the answer to Pilate’s question, ‘What is truth?’ 
I believe that it holds deep within its heart the answer 
to that great question of the ages: and this is what 
I have to say ; 6 Come and see.’ Look away from man- 
made theories, and search for the eternal Principle of 
life. Look up above the crucifix, and there you will 
find the risen Christ. Look away from the creeds of 
men, upwards and onwards, to the law of God. Above 
all, cease to hate and learn to love.” 

Robert Saul paused a moment and then leant for- 
ward a little, his face so softened by the thought 
within, that it sped his message home to many a tired 
heart. 

“ My brothers and my sisters, farewell ! I go in 
search of the Nazarene.” 

As the man and boy moved in silence down the 
crowded aisle, a path opened where none had seemed 
to be, and every eye followed the man’s great form 
and the boy’s fair head; but before they could reach 
the western door a woman’s voice cut its way half 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


353 


across the church and the next moment she stood 
before Robert Saul. He knew her instantly — the 
woman from whom he had bought Malcolm ! She was 
close to him now, in spite of the crowd that turned to 
hold her back, and she was beside herself with malice 
and only half knew what she did. 

46 Curse you,” she hissed, 44 curse your blubbering 
confession, for the work of a white-livered fool ! ” 

Robert Saul had halted at the first sound of her 
voice, and as she directed her words full upon him, 
the wild passion, which had many times in his life 
swept him before it, now drove the flaming colour into 
his face. But it could do no more, for its day was 
done, and as the red blood surged from brow to neck, 
it left the man’s face pure and very calm. Then he 
knew, as he stood there victorious, that he was freed 
from the sin which he had fought so unsuccessfully 
until this hour, and that thus he stood upon a higher 
height than heretofore. Now, once more, Malcolm 
held his uncle’s hand a little hard; once more, the boy 
raised his clear eyes to those of the man ; once more, 
brother helped brother a little further up the great 
ascent, and then the man spoke. 

Every eye was drawn to the now isolated group; 
every consciousness was attentive, and by far the ma- 
jority of that large concourse realised that they stood 
in the presence of a new power, and as they noted the 
man’s quiet strength and the beauty of his face, 
etherealised by recent travail of the flesh, they were 
half prepared for the calm words which followed. 

44 My sister,” — Robert Saul’s beautiful voice now: 
penetrated to the utmost aisle — 44 we have much to for- 
give each other. Shall we not begin at once ? ” Then 


354 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


taking one step forward and bending from his great 
height, he lifted the woman’s hand in his. 

When, a moment later he turned and passed through 
the western door, those hundreds who had gathered 
together to hear Bishop Saul preach that day, dis- 
persed in grave silence, and many carried the memory 
of his face with them, as they, too, turned to journey 
up “ the mountain,” while to the hungry heart there 
came that day a heavenly visitant from on high — the 
still small voice of Love! 


CHAPTER XL 


A LONELY BARQUE UPON THE MIGHTY DEEP 

Onward, Christian, though the region 
Where thou art be drear and lone, 

God hath set a guardian legion 
Very near thee, — press thou on! 

By the thorn-road, and none other, 

Is the mount of vision won; 

Tread it without shrinking, brother! 

Jesus trod it, — press thou on! 

By thy trustful, calm endeavour, 

Guiding, cheering, like the sun; 

Earth-bound hearts thou shalt deliver. 

Oh, for their sake, — press thou on! 

— 8. Johnson. 

Early the next afternoon Robert Saul stood before 
Lady Cecil Gwynne. She had felt sure that he would 
come and had given orders that she was “ at home 99 
to no one else that day. 

As she rose from before her writing-table to receive 
him, Cecil Gwynne became instantly aware of a great 
alteration in the appearance of the man who stood be- 
fore her. Doubtless the heather-mixture tweeds which 
he wore partly accounted for his air of freedom. The 
rough suit was indeed an old friend and was associated 
in Robert’s mind with holiday tramps across the moors 
of Scotland in the days when he was still in a meas- 
ure his own master and had spent many a long hour 
shooting or fishing in the Highlands. It had sur- 


856 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


prised him that morning to find the friendly home-spun 
still in his possession. 

But Cecil knew that rough brown, in the place of 
smooth black, was not alone enough to account for the 
change which she now observed in Robert Saul. His 
face, fine-drawn, showed signs of recent suffering, and 
yet he looked less anxious and even younger than be- 
fore. His manner was perfectly composed; that, it 
usually was ; but to-day the whole man seemed to be 
possessed of a new reserve of power, which somehow 
overruled his emphatic personality, while adding to his 
strength. 

44 1 have come, Cecil,” Mr. Saul spoke a little quickly, 
44 to say 4 good-bye.’ Of course you have seen the 
morning papers? Malcolm is now with his guardians, 
Mr. and Mrs. Meade, who I find know you quite well. 
Will you,” he hesitated a little, 44 will you watch over 
the boy for me, while I am out of England? Mr. 
Meade is quite willing that every important decision 
should be referred to you before final action is taken. 
Naturally it will be easier for me,” he paused, but only 
for a moment, 44 to leave the child, if I feel that you 
will do a mother’s part towards him.” 

44 Of course I will, and I shall be loving all the time 
to do it ; but you ? ” 

44 1?” Mr. Saul moved towards the window and 
looked steadily away from Cecil Gwynne. After a 
long time he turned and, crossing the room, stood 
beside her chair. Very close he stood, and his hands 
trembled as he held them to his side. 44 1,” he re- 
peated, and now he smiled a little, 44 1 have what seems 
to me to be a great battle to fight. When I have 
fought it, I shall stand before you again.” 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 357 


Cecil did not answer for a while. She understood 
so well all that this man had suffered and knew per- 
haps better than he did, that he still must suffer, be- 
cause the road from sense to Soul is uphill all the 
way, and there are dark mountain passes thereon which 
must be breasted by each traveller — and alone. This 
Cecil Gwynne knew better than the man before her 
could know it as yet, for she realised that the heights 
of Mind are only won through sore travail of the flesh. 
Her voice, when at last she answered him, was soft 
and more tender than Robert had ever known it to be, 
and it did not make his resolution less hard to keep. 

“ Malcolm and I — — ” ; she ceased speaking, for 
Robert Saul’s face had suddenly grown stern, and it 
seemed that he had borne all that he then could bear. 

By-and-by they talked again, and when, an hour 
later, Robert rose to go, he had already well begun 
that fight which ever leaves the soldier stronger than 
before. 

He was wonderfully calm and gentler than ever in 
his life before, when he held Cecil’s hand in farewell. 
“ You know, of course, why I do not speak of my love 
for you,” he said ; “ I may not, until I have well begun 
the climb. But some day, sweetheart, I shall return; 
some day I shall most surely return, and then ” 

He lingered a moment, but Cecil Gwynne did not 
attempt to keep him. She could not make that which 
he had to do easier, and she would not make it more 
hard ; for the proud man, humbled, touched her as he 
never had touched her when at the zenith of his pride. 

A week later Robert Saul left England ; and on the 
day of his embarkation for Africa, those who loved him 


358 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


best were by his side to bid him lovingly, “ God-speed.” 
The Duke and Duchess of Westmoreland were there. 
Robby Campbell and his brother James, Margaret 
Courcy and Cecil Gwynne, and lastly — Malcolm. 

Time was almost up as Robert called the boy to 
him. Together they paced the deck, and what he said 
to the child was for Malcolm’s ears alone. The first 
warning bell had sounded, as Mr. Saul turned to say 
good-bye to the little group of friends who stood upon 
the main deck, and still he kept the boy’s hand within 
his own. The others had now left the ship and Cecil’s 
foot was upon the gangway, when Robert Saul strode 
to her side. Without a word she gave him her hand and 
returned the steady look which he bent upon her. Then 
suddenly he stooped towards Malcolm, and lifting him 
to his breast he wrapped his arms about the boy and 
held him in a close embrace. Malcolm was sobbing 
now, and Robert gently put him down and folded the 
child’s small hand within Cecil’s loving clasp. 

“ Yours,” he said, an4 his strong voice shook a 
little, “ yours — until I return to claim you both.” 

Cecil’s face was very grave, but it seemed to Robert, 
as he looked again into her eyes, seeking the promise 
that her trembling lips could not — or would not — give 
him, that they were like the sweet Alpine gentian 
drenched in dew, yet smiling all the time beneath the 
kiss of Hope’s brave sunlight. 

From the shore, the little band of friends watched 
the ship get slowly under way, and they remained 
silently gazing after her as she moved towards the 
open sea. As she rounded a bend of the river, Mr. 
Saul passed from their sight, standing exactly as he 
had stood since that last good-bye — a lonely figure, 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 359 


calm and strong; a thing apart, grand in the isolation 
of a great resolve ; a man whose heart had wakened 
to a throbbing love for all mankind. 

Courage, Robert Saul. For surely thou dost journey 
up and on, thus winning thy way 46 out of darkness 
into his marvellous light.” 

Courage ! all ye who stand enrolled in the army of 
the Lord — ye soldiers of the healing Christ. Courage ! 
for see! Freedom’s white banner is unfurled and waves 
right bravely in the sun. Courage! ye old men and 
women. Courage ! ye young men and maidens. 
Courage ! ye little children. 44 The battle is the 
Lord’s ! ” Hold within your ears the ringing cheer, 
44 Forward! ever forward, up and on.” Utter with one 
voice the battle cry, 44 Peace on earth, good will to- 
wards men.” Take within your hand the 44 sword of 
the Spirit, which is the word of God.” Hold within 
your heart the silent prayer. Thus, loving Good su- 
premely and self not at all, the Truth shall be your 
shield and buckler; your helmet, — Life eternal; and 
your breastplate, — Love divine. Wrap thee round with 
living love and sweet humility , and thus equipped, the 
poisoned arrow cannot reach you. Thus equipped, ye 
shall stand unharmed while error falls upon the battle- 
field of Armageddon. 


CHAPTER XLI 


SCALING THE HIGHER HEIGHTS 

But warm, sweet, tender, even yet 
A present help is He; 

And faith has still its Olivet, 

And love its Galilee. 

The healing of the seamless dress 
Is by our beds of pain; 

We touch Him in life’s throng and press. 

And we are whole again. 

— Whittier . 

A woman, young and with a face both sweet and 
grave, held an unopened letter in her hand. She sat 
so still that a great Newfoundland dog rose from the 
sunny spot which he had chosen for his own and gently 
pushed his noble head against her arm. She raised 
her hand and rested it upon his neck, until, satisfied 
by the soft caress, he turned and spread himself upon 
the cabin floor beside her chair. Lifting his chin a 
little, he laid it upon the white canvas of her shoe, 
knowing that she had need of his silent love. 

Still the letter remained unopened while the woman 
turned her thought upon a scene which she had lately 
left. A fetid den, disgracing the richest country in 
the world ! a child’s white face, and pitiful eyes ! a 
mother, drunk and steeped in sin! Foul air, teeming 
with counterfeit life ! In short — unholy thought mani- 
fested in most unholy pain! But Mind had conquered 
360 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


361 


as Mind ever must and will. The child’s weak moan 
had ceased, for Love had sent the angels of His 
Presence to encamp about him and thus delivered him; 
and Life had wakened the weary thought to restful 
rest, while Truth had fed the hungering heart and 
freed the crippled limbs. Thus, one more of God’s 
little ones, discerning the Light, had risen to new 
activity and joyous life. But what of those others, 
those countless thousands who, by day and night, send 
up their mute, unconscious cry for help ? Cecil Gwynne 
knew of sin more black and sorrow more profound, 
which only voiced itself in voiceless pain; and as her 
heart sent forth the importunate cry, “ How long, O 
Lord, how long? ” penetrating throughout the ages, 
strong and clear, the sweet answer of the healing Christ 
sounded in her heart, “ Lo, I am with you alway ; ” 
and the glory of that promise, given to “ all nations and 
kindreds,” filled her with a new-born peace and drove 
the shadow of the past away. With the slow touch 
of one possessed by the power of deep thought, she 
broke the seal of the letter which still lay upon her 
hand and read it slowly through. 

Presently she folded and placed it carefully in her 
desk. Then, leaving the cabin, she went forward upon 
the deck and threw her arm about the mast. The 
wind was high and blew stiffly in her face, sometimes 
lifting the spray and sweeping it across her form. 
She loved the freshness of -its cool, wet touch, though 
for the most part she did not notice it, for her heart 
was full of praise and sent up an ever-rising psalm 
of gratitude. Peace and power, rapture and rest, 
swelled the sweet refrain that held her mute, while the 
silence of Love possessed her soul. 


362 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


Later, a tall lad joined her, and, confident of a lov- 
ing welcome, he slipped his arm through hers and 
stood for a long time silently by her side. 

“ I have heard from Angola to-day,” she said at 
last. “Uncle Robert asks, ‘Has Malcolm yet de- 
cided upon his future career, the army or the univer- 
sity,’ which shall it be ? ” 

“ Oxford first,” the lad answered without a mo- 
ment’s hesitation. 

“ Yes,” Lady Cecil spoke gravely ; “ I think you are 
right, for you know that ‘ labor are est or are. 9 You 
understand that true wisdom can only be obtained by 
the reflection of divine Intelligence, and that with all 
thy getting thou must yet have understanding. And 
after Oxford? ” 

The boy drew an inward breath and remained so 
long silent that Cecil Gwynne turned to look at him. 
His keen face was full of life, and the firmly set mouth 
spoke of strong resolve. Deep with earnest purpose, 
his steadfast gaze looked out upon the waters. 

Then he spoke ardently. “ And after Oxford ! why 
I decided that long ago — the day Uncle Robert left 
England. . . . And I wish that you could come 

too ! ” 

Cecil lifted her hand and clasped that of the lad. 
“ You have decided nothing,” she said gently ; “ and my 
work lies at home. Indeed, the Master’s vineyard is 
so large that we need to pray daily that he will send 
more labourers of the right sort into it. But for you, 
dear, why, you will decide nothing yet, for we learn in 
Science, do we not, ‘ to let the morrow take thought for 
itself ’ ? At the appointed time, Truth will lead, and 
when it does I am sure that you will be ready to go, if 


363 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 

need be, as Abraham went, 4 knowing not whither.’ 
Meanwhile it is in the crowded city that sin hides the 
most easily, and there the labourers may not be too 
few. Furthermore they must stand ever 4 eye to eye’ 
upon the walls.” 

Above, the deep, deep blue of the star-flecked 
heavens — the infinite variety of Mind, mirrored by 
worlds upon worlds of shining light ! Below- the dark 
bosom of the sea, torn by its own unrest ! 

With sails full set, the yacht sped swiftly onward 
through the night, like some mighty bird upon the 
wing. 

The boy stood alone at the starboard bow, and his 
eyes shone softly with a brave and certain light, as he 
raised his face towards the vaulted heavens above. 
Joyously, he held a hope within his heart; and, silently, 
he sent his answer up to Mind — 46 Yes, I will be ready.” 

We first saw Robert Saul, several years ago, seated 
before his table, intent upon the writing of a letter to 
Cecil Gwynne: to-day, he is once more seated before 
his desk, and again he writes to Cecil Gwynne, and this 
is what he tells her: — 

44 Two years I have been waiting to write this to 
you, my little sister; but at last I can say that I am 
striving to be content — content to live my life with- 
out you by my side. I shall always love you, Cecil. 
I am only slowly climbing toward that plane of 
thought which you have reached before me, but at 
last, my sister, I see ; still 4 through a glass darkly,’ 
but less darkly every day. The fiery trial has been 
mine, but the baptism of tears has washed away the 


364 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


dross of selfish desire, revealing something of that 
selfless love which holds the brotherhood of man with 
bonds which never can be severed. For what can sepa- 
rate those who are consciously united in the one great 
Mind and who, ever i eye to eye, 9 press always on and 
up? To me has already come, in some measure, that 
peace and joy which come of understanding , and which 
truly 4 passeth all understanding.’ It is worth all that 
has been — all that I know must yet be — to see these 
poor heathen learning to understand something of 
Good, the only true God , — omnipotent, omniscient, 
omnipresent Love. It is worth it all, to see them ceas- 
ing to hate and learning to love. And the little chil- 
dren ! But you know better than I what it means to 
watch the pure child thought unfold in Mind, revealing 
the whiteness of Soul. So, little sister, Good-bye. The 
call has come, bidding me work out the harder problem 
in one of the great cities of the earth, where the need 
is urgent and the labourers still too few, and I am 
ready, little sister, to obey. 

“ It is with a heart full of joy that I make my prep- 
arations to return to England. As you know, the 
Duke and Duchess of Westmoreland are at work in a 
busy centre where I shall shortly join them ; and Robby 
Campbell is also there. Then Malcolm will always 
spend the long vacation with me. Lady Margaret 
often writes to me, — happy letters, full of that vitalis- 
ing loving kindness which characterises her every word 
and work — and I am at rest, remembering that she is 
by your side, ready to help you should you ever need 
the touch of a brother’s hand. Thus the joyous work 
goes on, and will , 4 until we all come in the unity of 
faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 365 

perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the 
fulness of Christ.’ ” 

• : • t. <*i r#i 

It was early morning. A little child, round of face 
and bright of eye, whose smooth black limbs spoke 
of suppleness and strength, pulled at its mother’s 
hand. “ Look! ” he said, “ look, my mother! ” 

The woman’s dark face lightened with a tender 
smile, as she turned and watched a white man cross 
the head of the plantain grove and swiftly ascend 
a rugged mountain path. Then she bent and kissed 
the child. “ Beloved,” she said (her heart had rested 
upon the sweet English word, and she had made the 
white man tell her something of what it meant), “ be- 
loved,” — and with soft accent she lingered over the 
syllable which had to-day much meaning for her — 
“ yesterday the white man said this to me, 6 It is not 
the will of your Heavenly Father that one of His little 
one should perish,’ and to-day! why to-day, he has 
proved those words to me, for to-day, he has given thee 
back to me ” — and the woman lifted the child and held 
him to her breast, while she crooned soft words above 
his head — “ when I thought that thou was mine no 
more; back to my heart, my little one, my dear be- 
loved.” 

And what of the white man? Pursuing the road 
which winds at first, but presently turns abruptly and 
narrows into a scarcely visible track, which leads 
straight up the now rapidly rising ground, he presently 
reaches an open plateau. From this height the view 
is superb, and he turns to rest beneath a slender acacia 
tree, laden with its snow-white blossom, while he drinks 
of the beauty which surrounds him upon every side. 


866 THE SEAMLESS ROBE 


This is the hour of his repose. A look of deep content 
settles upon the refined face, and a light of great glad- 
ness shines from the gentle eyes. 

It is yet very early, and all nature is fresh and 
glad. Robed in imperial purple, the “ morning glory ” 
opens its heart to the sun. Revelling in its strength 
and freedom, the great convolvulus trails its radiant 
loveliness in gorgeous profusion over rounded knoll and 
yielding branch. The white hybiscus shines forth in 
all its purity and, like a shower of forgotten stars, 
baptises the earth with its petals of silver and its heart 
of gold, while the palm-decked land stands ready to 
receive the coming brightness of the early day. Now 
the veil of cloud is rent in twain, as, revealed in all his 
majesty of light and power, the sun gleams forth, from 
glory unto glory, opening, with caressing touch, each 
leaflet and each bell. Kissing the night’s tears all 
away, he wakes to jewelled splendour the dew on 
grassy blade and bending bough. Thus reigning su- 
preme o’er earth and sky, he symbolises the everlasting 
Love, forever expressed in power and in light. 

Here let us leave Robert Saul. He stands watching 
and praying, as might some strong sentinel, keeping 
lone vigil at a far off post. 

We leave him where he loves best to be, standing 
waiting, with the pure loveliness of the new day about 
his feet and the radiance of heaven upon his brow, but, 
ere we turn away, let us listen with heads bent low and 
hearts at peace to the consecration of a life. Impelled 
by holy thought, ever looking upward, pressing on- 
ward, these words well up in a heart that is overfull, 
and find soft utterance through reverent lips. 

“ Love, oh, Love ! I thank Thee that Thou hast 


THE SEAMLESS ROBE 367 


called me to labour in the vineyard of the Lord. Eter- 
nal Trinity of Life and Truth and Love! My past, 
my present and my future, all are Thine. Father, I 
know that, ere I can call, Thou hast answered me. I 
know that, while I yet speak, Thou hast heard my 
prayer. 4 At the time appointed ’ Thou wilt reveal the 
Truth to all mankind — the Fatherhood of Life, the 
Motherhood of Love, the Brotherhood of man, the 
glories of a universe in Mind. And I thank Thee, even 
through all eternity, I thank Thee. 

44 Ohj holy Nazarene! now as aforetime Woman sits 
silent at the feet of Truth and learns again the eternal 
lore of Love. Oh, healing Christ ! thou loving Saviour 
of the world, the free-born, bending, touch thy seamless 
robe ; prostrate, they kiss the hem of purity and peace ; 
and rise to follow Thee, while the 4 white wings of the 
Holy Ghost 5 brood o’er each upward path, translating 
matter into Mind. Thus are the meek baptised anew 
in a living love for infinite Good ; thus shall a universe, 
including man, one day reflect its God.” 


EPILOGUE 


And if it seem evil unto you to serve the Lord, choose 
you this day whom ye will serve; whether the gods which 
your fathers served that were on the other side of the 
flood, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land ye dwell: 
but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord. 

— Joshua. 

A woman stands high upon a wide hillside, beneath a 
dome of golden light, and points to the mountain peaks 
above. 

Like a tender benediction, her farewell falls upon the 
waiting thought that fain would tread the winepress 
by her side. 

“ Nay, dear heart! I would not wed as mortals wed. 
Yet — 9 tis not for me to say what thou should’st do; 
nor may man make by use of mortal will a single move 
in front of God, for ’tis only by reflecting Mind that he 
can safely scale the heights from sense to Soul. More- 
over, man is ever individual, and ever free to choose 
or lose the best — to wed himself to God, or to give his 
life for that which is not gold. Yet, while I take my 
hand from thine, I point thee to the marriage of the 
Lamb and tell thee that which I for long have known, 
that they, who are accounted worthy to obtain the 
resurrection, neither marry nor desire to be given in 
marriage, but are ever as the angels — 6 complete in 
him.’ Thus only can man hope to die no more.” 

A man stands alone upon a wide hillside, beneath the 
368 


EPILOGUE 


309 


full white light of a noonday sun, and searches the rock- 
ribbed paths beyond. He binds his sandals on his feet 
and takes his staff in hand, while he whispers to his 
heart, u God’s — will — be — done. Fare thee well, sweet 
vision of the earth ; for ever and for ever fare thee well. 
That which woman does, with a heart o’erfilled with 
joy, surely man may likewise do, nor need he thereby 
suffer any loss. I too would win my way to immor- 
tality ; I too would be — complete in Mind.” 


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» 111 Thomson Park Drive 

Cranberry Twp., PA 1 6066 
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NOV 28 1909 


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